Young Blood

YOUNG BLOOD
When life doesn’t turn out

the way you want it
Philippine Daily Inquirer
12:50 AM July 31st, 2016
What happens when life becomes a little disappointing? What happens when things go entirely different from
what you planned? How do you keep living when life doesn’t turn out the way you expected it? What if you
don’t get that one thing you desperately wanted? What if the universe decides to test you a little more?
Isn’t it frustrating and depressing? You dreamed about finishing college, getting the good job you’ve always
aimed for, achieving your dreams and goals step by step, and living your life. But it’s not working out that
way. You finished college, but you didn’t end up with the job you wanted. You realized some of your goals,
but you’re not as close as you thought you’d be to your dreams. And worse: You’re stuck, unhappy, and hardly
living your life.
Remember how entering your 20s and welcoming your adulthood were described in the novels you read?
Remember how lovely it seemed—getting a job, being free, buying the stuff you wanted for so long, and being
responsible for your own life? Little did I know, when I began romanticizing about it, that when I finally hit
my 20s, I would find myself questioning my very existence and purpose in life.
Is this how it is? Your mind starts to be filled with questions, doubt and fear. Questions about self-worth and
the idea of who you are. Doubt about the principles and values you hold. Fear of the unknown and the
uncertainty.
You lose hope and try to connect your string of thoughts as if it can make yourself whole. You swim and
plumb the vast ocean, trying to find the answers. You tread the labyrinth of obscure paths, looking for
something that can validate your existence. But you feel like the universe is conspiring against you. You fear
that life is knocking you down every single day. You doubt that anyone will understand you, so you face it all
alone. Pressure keeps haunting you even in your sleep. You are convinced that everyone will judge you; it
scares you so much. Then suddenly, you just want to give up. You just want to go to bed, crawl under the
covers, and drown in your anxieties, negativity and dashed hopes.
The melancholy days weep in monotonous despair.
But you see, maybe it’s life telling you that all along this is the right path. That the way you plan your life isn’t
the better idea to reach your goals. It is life telling you that this is where you will grow, and this is the direction
to evolve and become the person you are meant to be. There are bumpy roads and curves in the journey
because, as it turns out, you’ll discover more about yourself if you let your heart open to new experiences.
Enjoy this process. It will be a dynamic and purposeful adventure. Your mind is too bright to be filled with
doubt and fear. You are too wonderful to let negativity dominate and drag you down. As Joseph Campbell
said, “We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.”
Whenever I have bad days and I feel ganged up by life, I just let out a cry. I’ll feel very emotional, sensitive
and angry about life, but then I have to reflect and debate with my own thoughts. I have to start recalling the
good days and remember to breathe.
I think about my future a lot, and I’ve had countless “What am I doing with my life?” moments. I have spent
too much time worrying about something over which I have no control. I have to remind myself that this is not
my fault, that this, too, will pass, and that better days are coming.
You just need to realize that life is full of challenges that you need to resolve in order to grow. You need to
adjust your expectations in life so you will not be hurt if things won’t work that way. You need to embrace the
unplanned life in order for you to live a happy and passionate life. Life has its own way of giving you obstacles
to having the life you want. Things will not always go in your favor. But it will make sense. It will, someday.
For once, do not compare yourself to your peers who achieved so much after college graduation and turning
20. They welcomed their adulthood in a whole new world that you haven’t even had a chance to enter. Remind
yourself that we all have different paths to take to be successful, and you have your own timing. Do not hurry.
Life is too short to be lived on fast-forward. You will be envious and jealous, but turn those feelings into
something productive. Keep believing in yourself, that no matter how long the journey will take, it is always
worth it.
In short, you have to let go of wanting to control everything. It’s okay to cry, to be lost, to be confused, to be
depressed. Your feelings are valid just as long as you don’t let them define who you are and what your future
will be. You’ll be fine, but remember that happiness comes from the inside. Just relax and let life surprise you
in all possible ways. Chances are you will be happier if you live in the moment. Strengthen your faith and
belief that God has a better plan for you that will make you happier than you ever thought you will be. Life can
be magical and beautiful. It doesn’t have to be perfect; it will never be anyway. Life will be more appreciated
when it is lived. It is more exciting when you’ve been a little bruised in your journey.
When life doesn’t turn out the way you want it, it will make you a stronger person. You will realize that you
can’t control everything. You will learn that life has its ways to make you feel down, dejected and
disheartened, that life will leave you scars and bruises, that life will make you realize you’re not perfect. But
this is life. This is what the whole thing is all about. One day you will look back and be able to say “thank you”
that life took a U-turn and corrected your path, leading you to where you are now. One day you will look back
and be surprised that the way you planned your life doesn’t matter anymore because this is your fate. This is
your life.
Jane Timbengan, 21, says she is currently working on herself.
YOUNG BLOOD
My Superman
12:12 AM August 21st, 2016
Today, I “liked” his post on Facebook. I even commented on his previous post about how beautiful, mysterious
and poetic trees are. I wonder where I pull such guts. Or maybe I get accustomed to being thick-faced. He will
not notice me, of that I’m sure. For him, I’m a nameless fan, so my obsession can be safely carried out without
hesitation.
We first met when I was in Grade 5. It was our Journalism Week, and I represented my school in an essay-
writing contest. He, too, was his school’s frontrunner in the writing category. He was a senior, and at 12 or 13,
he was already eye candy. Though skinny and dark, with untamed long hair, he had beautiful black eyes that
bespoke longing.
Every time I stole a look at him, he’d glance my way with disinterest and boredom. And because I had never
been the pretty face, he’d look past me despite the proximity of our chairs. I contented myself photographing
his back in my memory.
I won first place in that essay contest; he won second. He looked at me, lips smiling, eyes twinkling. It
could’ve been a trick of the light, but I’ve kept that picture in my childhood heart.
I transferred school when I was in Grade 6. He was a high school freshman. I hadn’t seen him or heard any
news about him then, but every time my girl friends and I bragged about school crushes, he was my Superman.
We sat under an acacia tree, giggling, playing “Flames” with our names. We wrote the beloved’s name on
white paper and tucked it under our pillow at night. He has a unique name, and I had the bravado to pen it on
my soles using a permanent marker, for my horrified father to see. I got a good spanking, and after that I
became very careful about boy talk and stuff.
I graduated from grade school with a list of crushes: him with dimples who smelled of vanilla; him who aced
the math tests; him who played sepak takraw and volleyball; him who wore a neat uniform and had well-
groomed hair. There were many of them, but unlike my Superman with a unique name, they were but an
adrenaline rush. I had to lie to my girl friends that I fancied those popular idiots, or I’d be counted among the
unfeeling, unpopular weirdos.
For my secondary education, I went to a private Catholic school in the next town. I was carefree and very
curious. I was introduced to the internet, cell phones, and most especially romance pocketbooks. I shyly
learned that the intimacy between a girl and a boy doesn’t end with kisses; that a man and a woman has to
become one in body in order to procreate; and that a mixture of saliva won’t serve as a petri dish for the egg to
be fertilized by sperm. Bless my school for emphasizing education and good values. Despite my burning desire
to experience teenage idiosyncrasies, I was chained to sanity and the fear of unwanted pregnancy.
High school life offered a wide selection of “him.” Modified, masculine, and with modulated voices, they
carried charm like a torch. I giggled, did the “Flames” game, and wrote love letters. Fortunately, no one bit at
my bait.
A year passed. I was late for the flag ceremony and opening prayer for school year 2002. I got in the queue,
hyperventilating. When the flag had been raised, I noticed the familiar back that I adored when I was younger.
The hair was cut short but it was black as a raven’s, and when he turned around my heart skipped a beat: my
Superman. Some pounds made him look tougher, he was taller, and most of all that signature look had become
a lady killer.
A transferee to our school, he became an instant campus crush. Aside from the good looks and the sex appeal,
my Superman was smart. He played guitar and drums; his voice was very good. He was a fluent speaker, a
friendly senior, and a topnotch CAT officer. Girls and gays, even preschoolers, adored him. I sighed helplessly
at his growing fandom. He formed a band, and when he and his friends had gigs during school events, I
happily feasted on his splendor on the stage 10 feet away. I didn’t scream like his legion of followers, but my
ribcage hurt from suppressing a powerful shout of support for him. I contented myself in drowning in the abyss
of his mystical eyes, feeling his callused fingers as he strummed his guitar.
It didn’t take long for a heartthrob like him to have the girl he wanted. It was in the middle of the school year
that I saw him walking on the corridor with the campus sweetheart, who was popular not only for her good
looks but also for her good breeding, intelligence, and sassy attitude. It broke my heart to see him laughing
with her while toting her bag and books. How do you compete with your role model? How do you hate your
senior whom you regard as an inspirational figure? Resignedly, I diverted my attention to romance
pocketbooks, and the male leads in those novels ended up looking like my Superman in my imagination.
They graduated ahead of us. I lost interest, or rather, I was too depressed to check on his life when their
relationship was as good as husband and wife. Still, shock was an understatement when a former classmate
told me that “she” was pregnant. Immediately I thought of him as the happy culprit. But no, my friend insisted,
he was not the father. From that moment, the sun shone brighter. Strange: It was like the stars were glowing
brilliantly, with their inner explosion of jubilation.
I added him as a friend in my Facebook account. I giggled when he accepted my request. He is the same
Superman I remember from when I was a lanky 11-year-old. He wears his hair a little longer now. The eyes
are as naughty, but gone is the childish longing in them: They look fierce, experienced and deep, as though
holding many untold stories. His bronzed skin is beautiful, with scars from his mountain climbing and hiking
adventures. It looks good to touch. He has chiseled arms and very robust thighs, and wondering how it feels to
be enveloped by him leaves me breathless. The sexiest part of him is his boyish smile; somehow that child I
admired many years back is still visible in the macho man I am following on FB.
While he has a soccer team and an ex-girlfriend in his CV, I have had no boyfriend since birth. People call it a
disability. I call it chastity and pride.
I religiously follow my Superman’s affairs in the internet, mostly his advocacy for the preservation of Mother
Earth and his exciting experiences on every mountain he has conquered. I “like” most of them, not because he
has been my crush for the longest time but because he is a good man with a positive outlook on life. I don’t
know if he has noticed me. Or if, like me, he has imagined us together in a happy place. He’s there and I’m
here, thousands of miles apart. He’s single, I’m available. I can try and shoot an arrow like Cupid’s. I can rebel
against my norms and redirect my destiny. But will the world be in harmony with my selfish desire? Is he
worth defying my homegrown belief of what is right, what is decent and natural?
No. Not yet. I believe I’m better off as a nameless fan. My infatuation is constant, unrequited and one-sided,
but my pride as a woman will never let me humiliate myself. As far as I’m concerned, I’m exceptionally
beautiful. The world has a superhero destined for me. I will wait for him—the right man, at the right time.
Rachel Ann Biclar Pedroso, 28, is a labor and delivery nurse at Almana General Hospital in Dammam,
Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.
____________________________________________________________________
Letter to a law student

By: Mindy Roiza A. Planillo - @inquirerdotnet
Philippine Daily Inquirer / 12:00 AM November 20, 2016
You might be tired of reading the cases assigned for today or of memorizing an article
in the Civil Code for hours. Like you, I’ve had my share of good and not-so-good days
for the past four months. I want to share with you some realizations which might help
you in one way or another, to remind you that you are never alone in what you feel and
experience.
Law and faith. In this battlefield called law school, I realized how faith could really
push you forward whenever things get rough. Faith here consists of faith in one’s self
and capabilities and, more important, faith in God. Whenever you are physically or
emotionally tired, it is your faith and vision that will keep you going. Through the good
and not-so-good days, keep your faith strong enough to push you a little more in this
journey.
Another day, another chance. One of the first things I realized in law school is that we
must live one day at a time, and to leave tomorrow’s worries for tomorrow. Indeed,
surviving is made up of our everyday struggles. I realized that slowly, I am learning to
outlive my bad recits and to cherish my well-done recits. To put it in other words, this is
tantamount to learning how to move on with every single day, because the next day
would be different and you can do much better than how you did yesterday. So chin up,
hold your head high, and remember that today is a brand-new day filled with renewed
opportunities.
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Whatever happens, trust the process. Maybe it’s a cliché, but I guess that it’s the whole
point of every journey one has to go through. In the same manner that beginnings are
always the hardest, sooner or later we will realize that every step we take will lead us to
our ultimate goal. No matter how painful, how tiresome and how burdensome, the
process is what builds our character into becoming ready for the realization of our
dreams.
Study consistently and earnestly. I have always believed in getting things done
piecemeal, whether in life or in academic endeavors. In the words of Erin Andrew,
“success does not happen overnight.” One has to work for it every day. One has to take
simple steps that will lead one to the fulfillment of that dream.
Constantly search for the hows and whys. When things get rough, it is inevitable that
we ask ourselves “How can I possibly surpass this?” and many other mind-boggling
questions. Apart from the recitation questions that are definitely nerve-wracking, these
existential questions will occasionally bother you. But you must not let them weaken
your spirit; instead, you must use these challenges to continue pursuing your dream—
and one day you’ll thank yourself for not surrendering to them.
Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. I’m not lying when I say that online articles
about first year in law school are exaggerated. Indeed, “difficult” is an understatement
to describe this first year, or perhaps law school in general. Always be prepared. Every
meeting is a golden opportunity to redeem yourself, to engage in meaningful discourse,
and to enrich yourself with knowledge and experiences.
Ordinary things with extraordinary effects. Never underestimate the power of doing
small things for yourself or even for other people. Simple efforts of telling your seat
mate how you understood the lesson and extending studying by a few more hours will
surely go a long way. We might not realize it, but these small things will add the
“extra” in extraordinary.
Ora et labora. This is one of the first things I learned, and became accustomed to, when
I entered law school. It is a comforting and at the same time firm reminder that it is not
enough that we rely on our own capacities. We have to acknowledge the grace of God
in everything that we do. Conversely, one must not purely rely on God, and do nothing
to realize one’s prayers and dreams. As a frequently cited Bible verse says, “Faith
without action is dead” (James 2:26).
Live one day at a time, at your own pace, but don’t lose sight of the people around you.
As time passes, I have realized that surviving is not just made up of your own efforts, it
is also motivated by the people you surround yourself with. If grade school or high
school has taught you to outdo others, this time it’s not you being better than others;
what is more important is that you become the better version of yourself with each
passing day. At the same time, you learn how to grow together with the people around
you, and then suddenly, unknowingly, you will realize how these people have helped
you survive your everyday battles in law school. Make lasting friends and keep yourself
in a good company; they make a huge impact in your journey.
Because our stories are still going, our codals might seem never-ending. But at the end
of the day, we have to keep going. We might pause for a while or experience breaking
or bending, but we will endure every bit of it because it is our dream to get that longed-
for title before our names. Just like a semicolon, may we always remember not to stop
or give up when things get rough, but to pause and remind ourselves of our vision and
dream.
It’s not yet even half of the battle, and it’s okay to feel tired and lost sometimes. We’ve
all been there, we’ve had our own heartbreaking experiences. But we have to keep
going, we have to be reminded that we are made for better things ahead.
If the movie “The Fault in Our Stars” introduced to us the “little infinities,” I guess in
law school you’ll get to appreciate the “little saving grace” every time you survive a
day that you thought you wouldn’t. These are our little victories, our saving moments in
the midst of trials and challenges.
At the end of the day, it is our constant striving that will eventually lead us to our
dream. Keep going, my friend. We’ll get there soon!
Mindy Roiza A. Planillo, 21, is a freshman at San Beda College of Law, Manila.
YOUNG BLOOD
Moving forward
By: Reyjean G. Tura - @inquirerdotnet
Philippine Daily Inquirer / 12:10 AM December 08, 2016
Here’s the story of how I became a certified public accountant: I crammed.
I traveled to Manila determined to study like I had never studied before (literally), but I
couldn’t. My old study habits, or the lack of them, always kicked in. I have never
achieved “beast mode,” as others term it, when it came to studying, though I promised
several times that I would. I simply didn’t know how to.
Reviewing for months prior to the October 2016 CPA licensure examination was a
great challenge for me. At the beginning of our review, we were told that ideally, we
should study for at least eight hours a day. If we’re not used to that, the reviewer said,
start with two to four hours, then gradually increase the hours until we can run the race.
But by the time I realized that I still couldn’t adjust my study habits to even keep up
with the race, more than half of our review time had lapsed. And, believe it or not, I still
wasn’t ready. At all.
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During the review, I went out with friends at least once a week. That would have been
okay if I had been burning the midnight oil every night. But it wasn’t the case. When I
didn’t go out, I was in bed, sleeping or surfing the internet for most of the day, watching
random movies or scrolling endlessly through social media sites. I did not study my
review modules in advance, so I spaced out a lot during our review classes, not getting
what the reviewer was talking about. I did not practice answering potential exam
questions. I studied only a few hours a day at first. And whenever I did, I studied too
slowly. I didn’t get to read all the modules the review center provided. Most of the
books I bought during my college days were left unopened. I was neither effective nor
efficient, and I wasn’t proud of it.
I have to admit, I was terrified. And I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one. Failing was
not an option. Weeks before the actual board exam, I witnessed my friends and batch
mates break down—emotionally, spiritually, probably even mentally. To us, it was
more than just a roller coaster of emotions; the battle pushed you to the brink of your
sanity where you free-fall to the vast unknown.
Remember that said about carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders? Trust
me, sometimes it’s not just some figure of speech. You can actually feel it crush your
soul, smother your dreams, force you to doubt yourself, until you start to consider the
easiest way out: giving up. Every single day it gets heavier and heavier.
Like everyone else, I was afraid of failing my family. They believed in me too much.
They have sacrificed a lot for me. And I knew that as much as I wanted to just give up
and stop studying, I shouldn’t. The clock was ticking, but it wasn’t over yet.
As the board exam neared, I crammed. I tried to study at least eight hours a day. I read
and answered what I could. I tried to pick up my study pace though there were moments
when my brain just wouldn’t cooperate. When our college professors visited us two
weeks before the exam, they all told us the same thing: that we should rest and relax a
week before it.
That didn’t happen. The readings seemed to impossibly pile up as the seconds ticked
by. There were just too many. I couldn’t cover everything. I didn’t attend any
“preweek” lectures at our review center because I badly needed the time to study while
still getting enough sleep. Still, I tried to make up by studying as soon as I got up. I lost
track of how many hours I studied in a day. I didn’t know if I was focusing on the right
topics. I still studied the day before the exam. Or at least I tried to; I wasn’t even sure if
I was still retaining anything by that time.
Praying always brought silent tears to my eyes. I remember trying to bargain my way
out, promising the Lord this and that if He would just let me pass the board exam. I was
that desperate. I didn’t know what I’d do if I didn’t pass. If the worst happened, I
thought I’d be stuck in some void I couldn’t escape. I think that was what scared me the
most. But in the end, because of all the inspirational and comforting words I heard from
so many people who believed in me, my prayers began changing. I only prayed that
what I studied was enough to get me through. And if it wasn’t, I prayed that I’d be able
to accept the results and trust the Lord’s plans. I prayed that I’d never lose hope and that
I’d be able to move forward after all the exam drama was over.
In the end, I accepted that my life was not just about getting that three-letter title: CPA.
It was so much more. I could take the board exam again or I could take something else.
I could try a different career path and get out of my comfort zone. There were so many
adventures ahead of me and not knowing anything about the future was part of the
thrill. I just had to have faith. Those prayers calmed my heart.
The results came out 10 days later. You probably know how this story ends: My name
was on the passers’ list, and so were my roommates’. Thank God. We made it!
I wasn’t one of the top passers. I only had average grades. Someday I’ll probably regret
not giving my best in preparing for the board exam. But right now, as long as the people
who matter are immensely proud of me, I can’t ask for anything more.
Note to self and to everyone else: You know what you are capable of, so give yourself
some credit. Do whatever you can and try not to worry about what you can’t. You went
through a lot already, and there’s still more. Just trust yourself and pray. Pray not that
you will pass, but that whatever happens, you’d be able to move forward. And that you
won’t stop even when the going gets tough. Trust that He knows where exactly you
should be and that He will lead you there. Keep the faith, always.
Reyjean G. Tura, 22, is an accountancy graduate of Ateneo de Zamboanga University

(Batch 2016).
Read more: http://opinion.inquirer.net/99838/moving-forward-5#ixzz4SKHESF5m

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YOUNG BLOOD
End obsession with Top 10

By: Jose Luis O. General - @inquirerdotnet
12:07 AM December 13, 2016
Bar topnotcher: Every law student dreams to be one. Law professors, administrators
and deans share that dream with their students, inasmuch as professors focus on
preparing the students for the bar exam, and administrators craft curriculums and offer
courses mostly intended for the students’ bar exam performance.
This has been the trend in the past decades. But this has to change if we are to keep up
with the movements shaping the 21st century: regional integration, geopolitical power
play, globalization, and rapid societal and technological advancement. Otherwise, we
will be left behind.
The obsession with landing in the Top 10 has limited our legal education to training law
students intensively and exclusively in all fields of Philippine law. Thus, they do not
have the opportunity to choose specific fields of interest. More importantly, law
curriculums have left no space for specialized courses on issues and realities that
challenge us today. As a result, law students are practically trained to become general
practitioners, and eventually are left on their own to decide in which field to specialize
when they graduate.
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In 2011, a top law school, UP Law, dropped noncore electives in favor of bar-review
and bar-related ones. Before then, it was said that UP Law was not focusing on the bar
exam but on the students’ future outstanding law practice. But because of its graduates’
relative dismal performance in the bar exam, particularly the glaring decline of
graduates landing in the Top 10,
UP Law’s administration has somehow ridden the tide of the Top 10 obsession.
Another top law school, San Beda, has had a rigid curriculum for decades in which
students have no electives at all, except for a two-unit subject, banking. In addition,
fourth-year subjects are mostly bar-review ones.
Ateneo de Manila, another leading law school, is somehow a saving grace. It has
retained 22 units of electives. Some electives are useful for the challenges presented by
the Asean integration, geopolitical conflicts, and globalization, such as international
taxation, international moot court, international economic law, and European business
law. But these are few and rarely offered.
The trend should be reversed. Schools should not be bar-focused as the bar exam is a
licensure exam that only tests one’s understanding of Philippine laws. It does not test
one’s working knowledge on pressing issues of a multinational level, and preparedness
in dealing with non-Filipino nationals, lawyers, institutions, and governments, including
international bodies.
Although passing the bar exam is an essential requirement for law practice, a bar-
focused student is ill-equipped for the challenges arising from the movements shaping
the 21st century. It is true that new lawyers generally go through general practice (in a
law firm, corporation, or the government) for years. Most new lawyers will not dare go
straight to what they want to specialize in. And worse, most will not dare leave their
comfort zones—the Philippine setting—precisely because they have been intensively
and exclusively trained to be lawyers for the local stage.
With due respect to the Supreme Court, together with the media, they have somehow
conditioned the public that the Top 10 examinees are assured of a highly outstanding
career. As far as this writer is concerned, there is no difference in the cognitive and
legal skills of any of the top 100 examinees, and any of the Top 10, as an examinee’s
bar exam score is partly determined by the examinee’s luck (e.g., he or she had luckily
focused on the exact topics actually asked) and the examiner’s whim (e.g., he or she
may not like the examinee’s handwriting, or is in a bad mood while checking). What
will determine a lawyer’s greatness is not his or her exam score—a tool of leverage—
but his or her actual performance in the practice of law: Does the lawyer gloriously
win—and graciously lose—court cases? Is he or she a revered professor or author?
Perhaps these are some reasons there are no Top 10 lists in developed countries.
What should then be done? Amid rapidly growing societal and technological
complexities, the profession is in dire need of specialization. Schools should provide
specialized, nonbar-related electives, such as law and the internet, and law and
emerging technologies. A specific, fairly recent case that left us troubled was the Uber
issue, which had our lawyers’ naiveness exposed. There were no local legal authorities.
In the name of advancement, we instead heavily relied on the legal application in other
countries.
Furthermore, as we are faced with regional and global realities, students should have a
stronger grasp of international, regional, and even individual foreign laws. Electives
such as international human rights law, comparative Asean law, and Indonesian
mercantile law, should be offered. With these electives, future Filipino lawyers will be
academically trained so that they, equipped with a firm foundation and coupled with
some experience, will be at par and will be able to work effectively with their foreign
peers, and will be able to appear before or work with foreign institutions and
international bodies.
Thus, it is essential that students be able to explore other areas. Schools can only start
offering such subjects if they are not pressured to produce Top 10 graduates. It is then
respectfully suggested that the Top 10 examinees no longer be publicized.
Legal education should not be bar-focused; otherwise, our future lawyers will fall into
an abyss of complexities, or will have great difficulty in reaching their full potential for
the regional and global stages. Schools, through their professors, should not put all their
efforts on strategizing how to produce Top 10 graduates, or how to outperform other
schools’ average passing rate. Instead, they should prepare the students to be great in
practice not only locally but also regionally and globally.
The world has become overly complex these past decades, and will continue to do so.
There are too many lawyers prepared for general practice, but there are too few who
have legitimate specialized knowledge. And there are too many lawyers trained to
tackle domestic issues, but there are too few who are well-prepared for the realities,
beyond our shores, facing us.
Jose Luis O. General, 29, is a linguist-supervisor, a published translator, and a senior

law student.
Read more: http://opinion.inquirer.net/99975/end-obsession-top-10#ixzz4T0Gt2Vsl

YOUNG BLOOD
Christmas wishes
By: Vicente Gulmatico Bilan - @inquirerdotnet
Philippine Daily Inquirer / 12:00 AM December 18, 2016
I wasn’t sure what to write about until I realized that Christmas was fast approaching.
Well, I have a few wishes for this season. Before I turn a year older in April, let me take
this opportunity to renew my life.
Each year I would wish for material gifts during Christmas. I thought these were
enough for happiness, but I have realized that real happiness can’t be provided by new
clothes, high-tech gadgets, fat bank accounts, and the other tangible and earthly things
that we enjoy. Now I want to be rid of the glitz of material things and embrace a better
version of myself.
I guess it’s high time I wished for something that would make my life better and more
meaningful next year. Perhaps some of these wishes are yours, too. I wish I could…
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Dwell on peace. I believe this encompasses everything. At peace, I will be a wellspring

of positivity. Real peace comes from knowing that we are at peace with ourselves amid
pressure and violence. In this seemingly fractured nation, what we need is a tight grip
on our quest for peace, but it can only be possible if we have peace within us. In order
to share peace with the world, we must start within ourselves. Peace be with you all.
Love again despite the ache. Isn’t it beautiful to have someone in your life who accepts
you for who you are and what you have become? Someone who makes you feel alive
again after a few heartbreaks in the past? I have experienced unrequited love, but this
doesn’t mean that I’m giving up on love. They say that love is beautiful the second time
around, that when the second time comes, there’s no turning back. It’s now our time to
allow love’s magic to overrule our being. Let’s love, for we are genetically engineered
to fall in love, but remember to love for the sake of loving and not for what we can get
out of the relationship. Getting hurt in the process of loving is normal; our pain
measures how much we’ve loved.
Dream big. I am a dreamer; that’s why I never let my dreams slip through my fingers.
This year I had shattered dreams and a broken spirit, but I learned from all my
experiences. Our world is a battlefield of dreams where each of us is entitled to dream.
When dreaming, let’s always wear courage as our “badge.” Life will throw big punches
at us, but we must be sufficiently courageous to face the odds. When we fail, let’s pause
awhile and bounce back higher. When we’re tired, let’s rest for a moment but never
quit. Quitting is never an option.
Teach more and touch lives. Teaching is my first love. I teach to touch lives, and that’s
essentially what I’ve learned from my eight years of teaching. There are moments that I
get jaded with my students’ behavior, but it doesn’t dampen my passion to teach. I wish
for strong loyalty to my profession so I can inspire more lives. As God’s creations, we
are cut out to radiate goodness to other people. Our little acts of kindness can light up a
village.
Smile often, frown less. Many things have happened to me in the past few months. I
thought I wouldn’t be able to etch a smile. As I went on my journey, I found smiling a
balm to my woes and frustrations. There’s the saying, “Use your smile to change the
world, but never let the world change your smile.” Whenever the world seems too
harsh, let’s never forget to smile. Frowning can never do good to us, and it will just
leave us with a heavy heart—and unwanted wrinkles!
Go out and make friends. I used to confine myself to only a particular group of people. I
never reached out and made friends with others. But things went differently when I
joined an NGO in Iloilo City. I was able to broaden my horizon, and I promised to
make more friends in the coming years. Life starts when we open up to others. We
shouldn’t be too dependent on others, but let’s find ways to gain more friends. The
world offers a cornucopia of opportunities for us to grow and nourish our social life.
Let go and be happy. I wish to let go of my past. There were bad things and people in
the past that block my capacity to be happy, so I want to let go of them. I would like the
past to be just a distant memory. I deserve to be happy. When we always dwell on our
past, we fail to see the beautiful things in store for us. What we can do now is mend our
broken soul, let go and move forward. Everyone deserves to be happy!
Be with people, and not be too imposing. What I’ve learned is that people will hate you
or love you for no apparent reason. I want to be with people, but I should be with those
who accept me no matter what happens. When we impose ourselves on
others, we become a monster inside. We will end up feigning our true personality just to
please them. We begin to behave differently and realize that we’re not showing our true
selves. Real friends will stick with us and accept us for who and what we are. So, be
with those who love you through thick and thin. Remember, we can’t please everyone!
Grow more in love with family. It is from my family that I gather strength and
inspiration. But I valued them less this year. I wish I could have more time with my
parents and siblings. Though we don’t live together, I would like to reconnect with
them even in my hectic schedule. The family is the sunshine that lightens up our day.
When we encounter trials in our journey toward our aspirations, our family members
comfort us. They give us the pat on the back when we do something great. They offer
their shoulder to lean on when things go wrong. They help solve our problems. They
are the ones who love us despite our imperfections and shortcomings.
Pray more, worry less. God is our Creator and Redeemer. Even though we’ve fallen
short of His expectations, He still forgives and loves us in countless ways. He has been
our great Provider and bestows on us innumerable blessings in life. I fervently pray for
His divine intervention, that I will be able to live up to His teachings this Christmas and
the years to come.
Before Dec. 25, I wish for happiness and longevity that I could be more inspired to live
this life more meaningfully each day. I wish these thoughts had wings to reach the
heavens.
Let me renew my life so I will be welcoming Christ with renewed heart and spirit.
Merry Christmas!
Vicente Gulmatico Bilan, 29, is a grade school teacher at Phinma-University of Iloilo.
Read more: http://opinion.inquirer.net/100091/christmas-wishes#ixzz4UYpz1iPP

YOUNG BLOOD
Becoming ourselves
By: Gill Altuna - @inquirerdotnet
Philippine Daily Inquirer / 12:22 AM January 05, 2017
When I was seven years old, I had my heart set on becoming a doctor. Many years later,
I am holding a degree in economics and fumbling through the corporate life.
The space between the dream and the present is where life happened.
Like most people, I am not one of those rare ones who actually get to steer their lives in
the direction their little selves have always wanted. And not because I had no option to
do so but because this is where all the circumstances in which I found myself and the
deliberate choices I made led me. Obviously, the change of heart did not happen
overnight; it was a product of years of struggle in which my then single mother’s
finances were insufficient and big responsibilities took precedence over idealistic
options, combined with years of finally discovering the intersection of what I actually
love doing and the work I can contribute to benefit the world.
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This is not to dismiss a young heart’s yearning. This is to acknowledge that life may not
always be in sync with how we originally envisioned it, but it is no less great and
meaningful.
We become who we choose to be. We do not walk linear lives where Choice A
irrefutably leads to Outcome B. Sometimes life is not logical that way, and this is a
nugget of truth we just need to come to peace with. The response to the outcome is our
own. More than anything else, it’s a choice that builds our inner workings and that
shapes our attitude toward the world.
For us twentysomethings, this is where we are in this critical stage where the rest of our
years are founded. We are always in constant pressure to become. We are pressured to
be what society wants us to be, what our families expect us to achieve, and what our
friends advise us to do. From all directions, people tell us what to do and what not to
do. They tell us what is right and what is not right. People voice their own truths,
sometimes to the point of insistence. What we don’t often realize is that the voice that is
most often tuned out amid the noise is our own. And sometimes, this is the only voice
that we must listen to.
To grow up and to grow are two different things. It is easy to grow up and just let life
take its course. Going with the flow through all life’s stages is relatively simple. One
just has to get up every single day, survive the mundane, and crawl back to bed when
all is said and done. What is challenging, however, is to grow—that is, to pursue the life
we have always desired for ourselves by making deliberate, hard-thought choices, while
at the same time leaving leg room to rectify mistakes and deal with unexpected curve
balls. It is facing the day head- and heart-strong and pursuing the tiny things that
ultimately make us happy, despite everything that makes living less desirable.
As they say, life happens. But let me add that life does not just happen. We make it
happen. It does not always turn out the way we want it to, but it does turn out to be the
best life we have been blessed to live if we just choose to, every day.
The space between where we are now and where we truly see ourselves happy is when
life happens; this is where the great pursuit is.
At the end of the day, the choice to become is what makes us.
Gill Altuna, 24, is a manager in a multinational company.
Read more: http://opinion.inquirer.net/100569/becoming-ourselves#ixzz4Wgi2Izmf

Connection
By: Jane Genevieve Ng - @inquirerdotnet
Follow your dreams. Trust your struggles. What’s done is done. Go with the flow.
Have you ever been given advice so repeatedly that it loses its meaning, so casually that
at some point it just doesn’t fit your situation anymore? We call these platitudes—
remarks or statements with a moral content that have been used too often to remain
interesting or thoughtful.
I was in grade school when my grandmother passed away, yet I vividly remember the
moments I shared with her. She was from Hong Kong; I was born and raised in the
Philippines. She spoke Cantonese; I speak Fukien. We hardly had a deep conversation
about life or anything under the sun, but despite the language barrier that we had, there
was one thing I never doubted: her unconditional love for me.
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She never spoke of how important I was to her, but she prepared my favorite French
toast every morning that she was in Manila. She never told me how proud she was of
me, but all our family members, our friends, and our neighbors even, were immediately
apprised by her whenever I received an award in school. She never told me she loved
me, but I can still feel it from the affection I receive from her friends whenever I visit
Hong Kong.
In our busy world today, we are often too absorbed by our social environment. We
watch movies and relate them to our lives. We use Instagram to show off how
wonderful life is for us—and more often than not, we feel a bit insecure when we view
snapshots of the great lives our friends seem to be experiencing. We forget the value of
living a meaningful life—that it isn’t just about the fancy restaurants we eat in or the
exclusive parties to which we get invited; that it’s also about living in the moment, and
spending time with loved ones.
As I relax in a coffee shop on a Saturday afternoon, I see a couple at a table not far
away from me. The guy is playing “Clash of Clans” on his iPhone while the girl is
engrossed in social media. They are lost in their own little worlds.
How long has it been since we showed someone true concern? How long has it been
since we spent quality time with the people we love?
Let’s aim to genuinely connect. Because in the end, it’s not the words that are said that
matter most, but the genuineness and sincerity we show to the people close to our
hearts. No matter how little I understood the words my grandmother spoke, she was the
person who communicated so much love to me. And of the many people I have met in
my years on earth, she is the one person I will never forget.
Jane Genevieve Ng, 23, describes herself as an “old soul.”

Read more: http://opinion.inquirer.net/100567/connection#ixzz4Wgj0VfBX
YOUNG BLOOD
My 6-letter words in med

school
By: Josefina Marie P. Medina - @inquirerdotnet
12:03 AM January 24, 2017
Even if deep inside the recesses of my heart lay my dream of becoming a physician, I
found myself at an impasse early on in medical school.
It seemed like I was in perpetual search for the most suitable paradigm on how to best
approach med school. Both the perpetual search and impasse undermined my
productivity and growth. So it was to my surprise that a six-letter word from our
anesthesiology preceptor, Dr. Payawal, became the most suitable paradigm on how I
should direct the course of my learning. The six-letter word is “commit.”
It used to be that I thought it was possible to study medicine without pain and sacrifice.
The word “commit” helped me understand that in pain there is learning, and in sacrifice
we find value. Furthermore, commitment begets tenacity, which is essential in learning
medicine.
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During my first year and a half in med school, “passed” was the six-letter word that
gave me perspective. Imbibing “passed” was an indirect result of my being aware of the
brevity of life. Hence, I decided to make both pursuing medicine and sampling the
buffet of life my top priorities. As a result, I spent equal time on studying and on trivial
pursuits, which was irresponsible.
After all, I must do everything I can to make my ideal futurity as a physician come into
fruition, especially because nothing is certain and my capabilities are limited.
But I was unable to translate this thinking into action. So I viewed my serving two
masters at the same time as a virtue of moderation—that there is more to life than
studying. This resulted in a feeling of discord, and I eventually realized that my virtue
of moderation was actually a mask for my mediocrity.
Another reason for using the word “passed” as my paradigm back then was fear. A
certain fear paralyzed me into always seeking solace in needless distractions, which
made me counterproductive. In times when I came across a difficult lecture, I would not
choose to endure learning it and instead would seek the intercession of St. Joseph of
Cupertino to help me pass an exam for which I barely studied. And a miracle would
sometimes present itself to me. Although I am religious, this bothered me because I was
studying to become a doctor, not a miracle worker.
The other consequences of “passed” as my paradigm were uncompleted manuals and

being tardy even during exams, to name a few. I realized that I was drowning myself in
distractions and asking for miracles, and that I was never fully invested in medical
school because of my self-defeating beliefs, fear of failure, and the idea that everything
I did was insignificant in the vastness and timelessness of the universe.
For me, it was easier to accept failure in med school if I never fully invested my time
and myself than to accept failure if I gave my all. Moreover, I actively avoided pain and
sacrifice, which brought me to a standstill. Ultimately, I was rationalizing my state of
inaction because I did not want to admit that I was lazy and a coward. This awareness
soon led me to accept my weaknesses and to change my paradigm in order to promote
growth that will aid me in becoming the ideal physician that I aspire to be.
Subsequently, these realizations led me to the six-letter word “strive.”
“Strive” became my new paradigm for the latter half of my second year and the start of
my third year. Bringing about change in myself took precedence. I decided to discard
my self-defeating beliefs and to choose things that were essential. Despite the illusion
of the present times that we can have it all, I had to accept the reality that my
intelligence is limited and my time finite. Furthermore, I thought it would be a
disservice to my future patients if I did not “strive” to become the best possible version
of myself as a physician. I also repeatedly told myself that it was never too late to
change, and that I must make the rest of my time in med school matter, leading me to
start to “strive.” Striving is important as it builds good habits and solid character, which
are both essential in medicine. Then, I decided to abandon my trivial pursuits. Lastly, to
have a holistic learning experience, I joined a sorority and the student council, and
endeavored to make good in my studies.
It was a 180-degree change for me as it was a step closer to becoming a person of

“magis”—doing more for Christ and for others.
As the workload increased each day, there were times when I felt physically,
emotionally and mentally exhausted. I lost motivation, because I knew more would be
expected of me once I passed third year. Furthermore, although striving builds good
habits, it is not enough on its own to build tenacity, or persistent determination. This is
because the amount of effort does not always equate with the results we hope for. I did
not want to be discouraged, so I began looking for a better paradigm to equip me amid
disappointments.
Thus, the advice imparted by Dr. Payawal came at an opportune time. He told us that in
medicine, learning and toiling are lifelong because physicians must keep up with
technological advancements, medical breakthroughs, and changing demographics. He
then told us to look deep inside ourselves, to determine whether we are really
committed to medicine, because only those committed will have the strong will to
persevere past the arduous task of learning.
This was when I realized that the six-letter word “commit” would best equip me in
medical school. From that day onward, whenever I felt discouraged, tired and
disappointed, I would tell myself: “You are committed to this.”
Indeed, in “commit” I accept that learning is an outcome of pain and that making
sacrifices will help me find value in things. Ultimately, commitment to medicine is the
key to persevering every single day, in order to deserve my future patients’ trust in me.
Josefina Marie P. Medina, 23, is a third year medical student at UERMMMC

Pampanga.
Read more: http://opinion.inquirer.net/101085/6-letter-words-med-

school#ixzz4Wgnobmh4
It takes time
By: Earl Kim L. Franco - @inquirerdotnet
12:29 AM January 10, 2017
Have you had that moment in your life when you pause, catch yourself staring at the
ceiling, and notice the things that you barely pay attention to during busy days, like the
tick-tock of the clock, the soft hush of the air from the fan, the odd sound your feet
make when your rub them together? And you simply think about what you’ve been
through, and ask yourself what you could possibly do to make your life better, to escape
the monotony of daily routine?
Recently I experienced that moment.
As I was lying in bed, thoughts rushed in my mind: So many things I want to achieve
and every day I think of ways to achieve them one by one, but I don’t know where to
begin. I have many moments of “what if” and “how I wish.” And, most often than not, I
end up thinking of other people’s lives and their successes, and simply wish that I am
like them.
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Admit it or not, we all have insecurities. We always compare ourselves with others and
imagine what life could be if we were born in their shoes. Would it make us happier,
more content? I don’t know.
What I do know is that in doing so, we unconsciously force ourselves to be like them in
ways both uncaring and careless, and subsequently find ourselves back to where we
started after hearing the thud of failure. Most of us have been through this phase. Lucky
for some, they came out of it early enough and managed to get a life of their own. But
for the others, I hope they snap out of it soon.
What we want to happen with our life doesn’t always happen according to how we
want it. There are reasons things happen as they do. There are ways to make what we
want to happen really happen. But it takes time. As they say, what is worth having is
worth waiting for.
Remember what we were told when we were young because they all have surpassed the
test of time: Learn to appreciate the simplest things. Find solace in your own corner for
it’ll keep you grounded. Motivate yourself to do better. Believe in yourself. Be the
captain of your ship. Row it gently. Go with the flow if you must, but with proper
guidance, soon you’ll find your own wave, your own current, in the sea of life. It will
direct you to where you’re destined to go.
There are things that need to be done at their pace and not at your own. Life is not a
race that needs things done fast. Just enjoy every moment. Love yourself and learn from
each mistake. In this way, you will never go wrong.
Earl Kim L. Franco, 21, is a fourth year math student at Assumption College of Davao.
Read more: http://opinion.inquirer.net/100713/it-takes-time#ixzz4WgpBR3dG

YOUNG BLOOD
In defense of differences
By: Patrixia Sherly D. Santos - @inquirerdotnet
It happened so fast that I didn’t even have time to be offended. Sometime last year a
woman old enough to be my mother told me, with so much derision and disgust in her
voice, that I was “such a millennial” and that I shouldn’t be—in effect implying that
there is something wrong about my generation.
Now what did I do? I only took to Facebook to air my frustrations and genuine
emotions on a situation that I felt strongly about. This was her response: “In my time,
we kept our opinions to ourselves, not shout it out to the world hoping someone will
take notice of us. You millennials lack discipline!”
I did not take the comment to heart, because really, I knew in my heart that I may not be
perfect but I had enough discipline in me to put myself through college while
supporting my family. Did I care about what some woman thought of me? Certainly
not. Not someone who belittled others so unsparingly. And back then I thought: Why
care about something that wasn’t true?
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Little did I know that in the year 2016, everything we ever knew about ourselves, the
people around us, and this country would change so drastically.
So time passed and one day, I woke up to a world where more and more of the older
generation had developed the habit of picking millennials apart. The hatred toward us
was appalling. Many ridiculed our stance on issues they thought were solely their own.
We weren’t born yet then, they said. Some wished that we would come to our senses
and retreat from the “evil lures” of social media. Where is our propriety? they said.
Some wanted us to stop chasing our passions and focus on what’s important. Find a
stable job, they said.
Suddenly, I was just this millennial. And suddenly, I was trouble.
To many of the older ones, millennials are the problem generation. Millennials are the
young, misguided, improper members of society obsessed with broadcasting our lives
on social media, aimlessly traveling from one place to another, with absolutely no
regard for savings, and with the tendency to resign from perfectly good jobs just
because we feel like doing so.
“You have to prove yourself first to us. You millennials are always so self-entitled.” A
baby boomer once told me that, looking at me with disdain, right after I got a promotion
in our company. And I thought to myself, What was she talking about? Were the
endless hours not enough? The various projects and campaigns that I ran were not
enough proof of my capacity? Was our mutual boss’ stamp of approval not sufficient?
I thought about the devotion I nursed and the sacrifices I made not just for the job but
also for my belief in what I was doing. Was I automatically undeserving because of my
age and the generation to which I belong?
Many millennials now find themselves in a world that constantly judges them. It’s a
world that seemingly wants them to fail. And it’s a world I constantly deny, every
waking hour, when I go to work or to school. A generation does not define anyone. The
quirks of our age are not connected to how well or how badly we will turn out. We are
just profoundly different from other generations, too different for their comfort, and
that’s that. What makes us different does not make us any less than any other age.
Taking selfies doesn’t mean we are self-obsessed. Posting our lives on Facebook
doesn’t mean we don’t value our privacy. Supporting gay rights doesn’t mean we lack
morals. Protesting the hero’s burial of a dictator who ruled during a time beyond us
doesn’t mean we have no mind of our own. Traveling the world and having no savings
don’t mean we are not responsible. Following our passions doesn’t mean we are
unstable.
Millennials aren’t that different from other generations. We were just born in a different
era with different circumstances. It’s an era where self-respect and love have taken
more pronounced forms. Where privacy has gotten more flexibility. Where morality has
become more inclusive than ever before. Where inaction has become the greater sin and
patriotism every citizen’s duty. Where being responsible is more about being honest to
oneself and less about what society would think. Where stability is about true happiness
that only comes from within.
I am happy to be a millennial. I am growing up in a world which constantly teaches me

that we no longer have to stay in a box in which other generations are trapped. We have
greater freedom and courage to take leaps and bounds in our lives. We have the ability
to look back and learn and not repeat mistakes because we can see clearly and our view
is unobstructed. The opportunities that are at our disposal are endless and we are not
afraid to use them. And we are more honest and open than any other age, and brave
enough to listen to our heart and follow it.
Millennials don’t deserve to be judged so lightly. And in these trying times, I only hope
that others of my generation will continue to soldier on with the conviction to live as
they choose to, as a millennial in a world that needs the type of light and courage only a
true millennial can bring.
Patrixia Sherly D. Santos, 24, is in her fifth year at the UP College of Law and is the
chief of staff of a party-list representative at the House.
Read more: http://opinion.inquirer.net/101137/in-defense-of-

differences#ixzz4XA6C9wDM
Everybody’s success story

By: Heinrick G. Rabara - @inquirerdotnet
Success is relative.
While certain people come to despise the job that they hold, believing that they are
stuck in a task that they have been performing over and over again every day for years
now, some of us rejoice in the idea that what we are doing is interesting, even cool or
awesome, and that others wish they have the same or even similar job, or at least the
same level of guts to be able to nail it. Well, it’s because success is relative.
In the world of jobs and careers, we walk with different perspectives. Some of us are
amazed by the success of others and at the same time neglect our own career. Because
we set too high standards, we fail to see that every little thing that we do at work
reflects our own definition of success.
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We achieve good things. It doesn’t matter how big or small the achievement is; we
achieve good things every day. And these small achievements will accumulate, and
within years, we will realize how big a change we have made, not only in ourselves, but
also in our workplace. But we fail to even picture this, because there is always a point
in our professional life when we become too consumed with defining what constitutes
real success.
We all want to be successful in our career, but do we even understand our personal
measure of success? Do we base it on the standards set by others, so that we constantly
compare ourselves with them?
I was once a hopper in the world of careers. I changed jobs year after year. I got bored
and unsatisfied easily, feeling that every day at work just didn’t feel right day after day.
It felt like reporting for work was basically a struggle, and was a test I only needed to
pass and never to top.
At one point I started reflecting on what could be so wrong with my job. Why did I feel
like nothing was going right? Eventually I realized that the problem was not the job I
was holding, and that the problem was myself. In fact, in the opinion of some of my
colleagues, my job was perfect; it was what they had wanted to find after college. It
was where they wanted to devote themselves and their services until they reached
retirement age.
True enough, I realized that the jobs I held were not my calling. I thought these were
just pathways toward where I should be going. Hence, I always felt the need to leave
and venture elsewhere.
So I began to browse through online job-hunt sites, to check out the classified ads in
newspapers, and to ask some friends for possible referrals in their workplaces. Then I
made a list of prospective jobs and companies, both local and overseas. It was a long
list. I sent my applications and showed up for interviews one after the other.
My ultimate goal was to land, not just a job, but a career. I had to choose one that would
make me want to stay until I reach my retirement age. I had to choose the one that
would move me to say that I am successful.
I had stumbled on Confucius’ adage: Choose the job you love and you will never work
a day in your life.
And it hit me. I revised my list, narrowed it down to a few choices in which I saw
myself working my entire career-life. I considered, not the amount of money I would
earn or the possible promotions I could get (since these may knock on my door through
hard work and proper timing), but creating a specific mindset: to find a job where I
would be doing the same task every day without getting tired of it because I love what I
am doing and, at the same time, I can proudly tell anyone who asks what I do for a
living. Ultimately, I would be establishing a career that would allow me to tell myself:
Yes, finally I am successful.
Years after landing the job in which I am still engaged, I can say I still feel the same
way about it. I am still as thrilled as the first time I typed my log-in code on my
keyboard, edited my first manuscript, received my first paycheck, and made new
friends at work. Everything feels pretty much the same, except that some colleagues
have left, also for good reason—to discover their own version of success.
Success is relative. It is a story we write about ourselves. It comes with different

struggles, bad decisions, lost opportunities, heartbreaking failures. But the plot of our
story cannot be written by somebody else. We cannot seek anyone else’s approval. We
cannot solely live up to other people’s expectations. They cannot simply outline what
ought to be done.
We are, after all, the author of our own story. We are accountable for every word we
write on our paper. It is up to us to turn all our struggles into victory.
Other people think of our career as fulfilling. We think of theirs as fulfilling as well.
What can be learned from this is that there is really no standard set to label a job a
“dream job.” Not a company’s profile, salary offer, or the job itself makes such a
“dream job,” but the one that makes you feel dignified by doing the task that you love
over and over again, for the rest of your career-life. Here’s the thing: The people around
us do not define our success. We do!
Heinrick G. Rabara, 28, is associate editor for law books at Rex Publishing Inc.
Read more: http://opinion.inquirer.net/101203/everybodys-success-

story#ixzz4XA6SoAjA
YOUNG BLOOD
Profanity and its users

By: Cindy P. Sicat - @inquirerdotnet
12:07 AM January 31, 2017
Mangmang. Bobo. Walang utak. Gago. Tanga. Stupid.
These words repetitively appear whenever netizens come across a video, photo, or post
on social networking sites with which they strongly disagree. I have read people
bashing other people whose acts are offensive to them and whose ideas are contrary to
theirs. In some cases, those who comment on these supposedly offensive or contrary
posts become united in claiming that the questioned action or idea is wrong. In cases
involving big personalities, a battle between the supporters and the bashers materializes.
And while cursing appears to be an intrinsic part of human nature, in social networking
sites the nature and choice of profane words with which to attack the opposing side
have become quite intense. Using profanity has become a way for people to “win” an
argument.
True, cursing and using profane words are commonplace. Even I engage in these
actions in certain circumstances. According to an article in Time magazine, about 0.7
percent of people curse daily. The approximation ranges from 0 to 3 percent, not
including online cursing and bashing. Realistically speaking, people will curse in their
lifetime due to various reasons.
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The use of profane words is inevitable even if a few really try to avoid doing so.
Using bad words has definite advantages and disadvantages. Most of the time, people
swear to release strong emotions, thus alleviating pain for some. Curses that are
expressed as interjections and as a result of exhaustion, anger, frustration, surprise, or
even happiness, and that are only for self-expression may even help the person uttering
the words. The act may ease a negative feeling in a tight and difficult situation, and may
serve as an outlet for tension or sudden surge of emotions.
On the other hand, using profane words may ignite conflict with other people,
particularly those to whom the words are deliberately addressed, or their family
members. This act of cursing is commonly used to hurt a person by directing it toward
his or her capabilities, work, appearance, loved ones, etc.
Swearing is already degrading in its oral form. What more if it is posted online for
everybody’s consumption?
Bashing is common online. Debatable topics will surface and people will air their ideas,
which will definitely oppose the ideas of others. The combination of bashing and
cursing as an attack on an individual has intensified in public posts, as anyone can
freely post almost anything online. There are posts that I actually closely follow, as the
opposing sides attack each other over various issues.
Evidently, many netizens will use all of the negative words in the universe that they
could use to attack a person they dislike or disagree with. Mangmang ka. Bobo ka.
Walang utak. Ang gago mo. Tanga. You are so stupid. Shame on you.
Let us say that a person did something really offensive. Will the use of these words
punish that person? Will it improve the situation? Will it end the conflict? In most
cases, no. It will even aggravate the conflict. A negative reaction to a problem is never
and will never become a good solution.
Many people will say that, in swearing or cursing, they are merely exercising their
freedom of expression. Sure, we are all entitled to that freedom. We all have the right to
speak and, at present, the right to post our opinion online. But does that freedom include
insulting the other person and attacking his or her intellectual capacity? Of course not.
Swearing at a person with whom one is arguing is never a way to win an argument. Ad
hominem argumentation moves toward one’s opponent’s personal flaws and condition.
Using cuss words will not make anyone more intellectual. Worse, if the same words are
directed to the one using them, one will also be offended. Now, how does that feel?
Many of those who use those curses will feel more infuriated, as if they were the only
ones entitled to use such words. Here’s where the “golden rule” perfectly applies.
Indeed, if one directs curses at a person, he or she must be prepared to be cursed back.
Another concern is involving mental incapacity in the argument. It only shows the low
regard of most people toward those with mental illness, to the point of using socially
constructed attributes as a means of attacking their enemies. It is never the fault of the
mentally ill that they are not up to par with society-decreed standards. Thus, using these
words are truly disgraceful: Mangmang ka. Bobo ka. Walang utak. Ang gago mo.
Tanga.
Cursing as a form to relieve oneself can be considered inevitable, but for it to be used to
insult those whose ideas oppose yours will never be acceptable. To involve those who
are mentally incapacitated is equally unacceptable. If those who curse or swear, whether
online or elsewhere, think that these words are the only weapons they can use to win
arguments, they are not worth the time. If these are the words used to buttress an
argument, it is not worth winning.
Cindy P. Sicat, 24, is a senior high school teacher in Eastern Porac National High
School, and is currently working on a master’s degree in literary and cultural studies at
Ateneo de Manila University.
Read more: http://opinion.inquirer.net/101276/profanity-and-its-

users#ixzz4XWxvluun
YOUNG BLOOD
In the mountains
By: Windy P. Añonuevo - @inquirerdotnet
Philippine Daily Inquirer / 12:16 AM February 02, 2017
I am no traveler though there are a few places I’ve been, the last being the mountains in
the north.
Wearing knitted pants and a rider’s velvet cover-up, I joined a bunch of guys on an
adrenaline rush. We negotiated steep hills, thinning ridges and straight paths paved by
monster mining trucks under the cruel heat of the summer sun.
In the mountains, you form friendships. You look after the others, and they look after
you in return. You share with them peanuts, as well as rice, even laughter. You share
with them muscle pains, bathless days, and freakishly cold, cold nights. You share with
them your life, knowing they will give you a hand when you topple over, and wait for
you to get enough air when you think your lungs had been emptied of oxygen.
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Feces left by beasts marked the trail, glazing the grassy cliffs. We were met by sudden
rain but we went on anyway, cold and dripping wet although covered in shiny, colored
plastic wrappers. Black clouds threatened to stop us on our way up, so we decided to
spend the night sheltering under a patch of wood with a roof, sitting between low ledge
and higher ground.
The next day, we awoke before the rest of the world did and were greeted by the sight
of twinkling white lights spread across the predawn sky. Our vision was not enough to
glimpse all the stars scattered unevenly like bits of Oreo cookies in a tub of ice cream.
They formed shapes and drew streaks that you would miss if you blinked.
We walked toward the peak for hours while behind us, the sun began to emerge, casting
colors of auburn, purple, and pink. We reached the summit and were welcomed by a sea
of clouds hovering over the mountains across us. Thick, grayish-white nimbi hung
silently on what seemed to be a blank canvas that the gods used to paint their
emotions—gray for anger, blue for happiness, orange, purple, or pink when they felt a
little peppy, or sleepy.
We had to continue walking, taking nothing but sweet memories and frames and frames
of images with which to tell our stories to every curious mind who would ask how it
had been. The hours passed and we felt exhaustion settling in. Peering over a cliff and
seeing houses and some folks gathering for an afternoon chat brought great relief. It
was tempting to run toward them, or even jump over just to get there.
But in the mountains, things are farther than they seem. You can only keep thinking that
you are nearly there, returning to where you were before, even if the idea of going home
before everybody else does is bliss, and will be a foolish thing to do.
As the trail grew closer to the end, everything seemed far longer than the earlier trip.
The last marker—two smiling zeros—felt more like mocking than cheerful. They made
me realize that there, I and everything else were dwarfed by the huge and lurid
mountains, making me and the others mere dots, little points in the vast universe of pine
trees racing to the heavens and sheets of cotton clouds billowing in the blue, arcane sky.
I am neither a mountaineer nor a traveler. I am a searcher, but I don’t know what I have
been looking for. Maybe in the years to come I will know it. But for now, I will keep
searching. Maybe by doing so, I will get to find those little pieces of meaning I have set
out to find—in the mountains and everywhere else I have been, and will be in.
Windy P. Añonuevo, 26, is a civil servant pursuing a master’s degree in

communication.
Read more: http://opinion.inquirer.net/101317/in-the-mountains#ixzz4XWy14xcj

YOUNG BLOOD
Math and me
By: John Patrick F. Solano - @inquirerdotnet
Philippine Daily Inquirer / 12:14 AM February 02, 2017
February, the love month, always reminds me of my unexpected affinity with math.
Back in elementary school, I found it hard to understand why I had to learn about
math’s complexities. I was wont to believe that I would encounter math wherever I
went every day.
There was a part of me hoping that we would always be off-tangent, that we would
meet only once in our lives. I wanted math out of my life. But things turned out
differently. I guess our vertices were inevitable.
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So I had to make friends with math. I embraced her being odd, constantly demanding to
be the center of attention. I also accepted her irrationalities—the root cause of a lot of
our misunderstandings.
It was in February 2008 when I decided that I would focus my attention on math. Four
months later, upon entering college, I was thinking about her almost every night,
understanding and analyzing her complexities.
At first it seemed surreal, but it eventually became so real.
Many were puzzled why math seemed to have many exes and whys, and why she
couldn’t solve these on her own. I realized that with the bulk of the problems she had,
she really needed someone to help her solve those. And I was there by her side to help
her.
That’s when I started getting to know math much better. That’s when I started learning
to like her. That’s when I started growing an affinity with her.
We went to the same classes together. We studied in the library together. We spent time
with each other as never before.
I’m glad that math and I met, that we didn’t experience the same fate as parallel lines:
No matter how far you extend them, they will never cross paths. No chance to get close
to each other; no chance at all to get to know each other more.
This month, my relationship with math gets even stronger. Nine great years since
college! One year closer to infinity!
I never imagined falling in love with math, but I’m thankful I did. While everyone is
celebrating the love month with their partner, I am happy enjoying math’s company.
John Patrick F. Solano, 25, holds a bachelor’s degree in applied mathematics from the
Polytechnic University of the Philippines and is currently a reinsurance assistant at
First Life Financial.
Read more: http://opinion.inquirer.net/101315/math-and-me#ixzz4XWy8jbGy

YOUNG BLOOD
The absolute thing in this

world
By: Camille Angelie B. Calalas - @inquirerdotnet
12:08 AM February 07, 2017
In time I reached a point in my life where I concluded that my mother’s criticism was
equal to dislike. It started when, as the eldest child, I accepted the responsibility of
being a role model (and in my subconscious, it meant I should never be wrong).
Because of that and of some unfavorable circumstances I’ve experienced, I
unconsciously invented the idea that if my parents would sternly correct me, it meant
they didn’t love me.
I was wrong, of course. I received a long lecture from my mother telling me once and
for all that no matter how many times I made a mistake, I would still be the same to
them, and it wouldn’t make them love me less. I was in tears as she stood there in the
living room speaking from her heart, with my father beside her nodding in agreement. It
was my defining moment.
It was partly this firstborn issue fueled by the overly critical world that led me to
question my parents’ love for me. When other people give up on us for some reason, it
often appears that it is because we did something wrong, that we are “defective.” But
the truth is, unlike parents those people don’t love us in the first place.
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Many of us who have been left by someone in whom we invested much blame
ourselves at some point for not being “enough.” We stay up late at night counting the
times when we were wrong, forgetting the things that we did right. If our pillow could
complain about our salty tears, we would have been pillow-less by now. Juan Miguel
Severo must have written a prose poem about pillows being symbols of heartache. We
would convince ourselves that maybe, if we did something other than what we had
done, it would not have ended up like that.
But no. The relationship still wouldn’t have been saved had we done things differently.
Because that someone would produce the tiniest bit of an excuse just to leave us.
There are people who have been cheated on by their partner multiple times but still
choose to stay. Most of them are aware of their partner’s flaws and everything
“unlovable” about him or her, but those imperfections do not matter at all.
To what extent can we hurt our partners until they leave us?
If they love us, it will take a long way for them to give up on everything, and there is
even a huge chance that they still wouldn’t. And if love isn’t there, hurting them is an
opportunity for them to leave the relationship with no guilt.
It all boils down to the idea that love is absolute. Love doesn’t count mistakes, or dwell
on the weight of issues.
It knows no math.
This truth also applies when we’re seeing someone. Men and women in the dating
world obsess about finding out why the person they are seeing suddenly lost interest. A
lot of us have been there. We would pose unproductive questions to our friends,
ascribing to them mind-reading powers: Was it because of something I said on our first
date? Was there something wrong with what I was wearing? Was I too chatty, or too
quiet?
Unfortunately, neither our friends nor the tequila we drown ourselves in while casting
about for answers can tell us what or why. Yet this I am sure of: It is not about how we
looked, what we said, or what their friends think. It is that, in the first place, the person
is not really into us. What a hard pill to swallow, but as those self-help books say, we
shouldn’t take it personally. “Yeah, right,” you might say, and roll your eyes. But hey,
it does make sense.
The argument that love is a choice might contradict the idea of love being absolute. But
if we take a closer look at love, it has challenges. We all feel challenged every once in a
while in loving the ones we love, and it is often because life isn’t perfect. At the end of
the day, we do not let external factors defeat us in our pursuit of love. As trite as it may
sound, love conquers all. We then say that love is a choice because we choose to remain
in the lives of the ones we love. But it would be hard to stay when we don’t really love
them. It is hard to make a choice when we haven’t felt love in the beginning.
This is where we put the pieces back together, after beating ourselves up for not being
perfect. This is where we finally set ourselves free. The truth about love is that it does
not blame us for being human. We can be our best and still not be loved. We can be our
worst and still be accepted wholeheartedly by those who truly love us. We can be
confident once again that it is not our job to keep people interested in us.
Until today, I get corrections from my parents, for forgetting to clear the dining table,
for having my eyes glued on Facebook Messenger when they’re telling me something
important, for not being able to give a sure answer when asked if I had unplugged the
iron, for locking or not locking the front door, and basically for every bit of instruction
that I missed. The difference is that to me, these remarks do not anymore sound as icy
as they sounded before, because I now know that my parents bear this one truth: Love is
absolute. Once it is there, it stays.
I am glad my parents made me realize this.
Camille Angelie Calalas, 23, is working on a master’s degree in English at Ateneo de

Davao University.
Read more: http://opinion.inquirer.net/101450/absolute-thing-world#ixzz4Y0PBctpN

YOUNG BLOOD
We are savages
By: Liz L. Palaña - @inquirerdotnet
Philippine Daily Inquirer / 05:00 AM September 10, 2017
Yesterday a boy’s corpse was found — the face wrapped in tape, the body marked by
stabs.
Another headline. Another ghost. Another spoil.
I vaguely remember my 14-year-old self. It has been a long time and so much has
happened since then that most of the memories have become mere blurs. But what I do
remember clearly were the feelings of being 14. It was the feeling of uncertainty, of not
being quite sure where you belong, since you were no longer a child but still not an
adult. It was the feeling of too much self-consciousness, of being too preoccupied with
your body image and of acting awkwardly in front of your crush because you think you
do not look good enough, that you have too many pimples and that your arms are too
fat.
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And yet, it was also the feeling of endless possibilities, of ceaseless trial-and-error
opportunities, of crossroads that lead almost anywhere. It was the feeling of being
young, of being vulnerable and invincible at the same time, because you innocently
believe that the universe is loving and gentle and kind to those who believe in it.
Perhaps that is one of the reasons I chose to be a teacher. Perhaps, on a subliminal level,
I believe that by surrounding myself with young people, I would be able to preserve my
own youth, and the joys that come with it. Whenever I stand in the classroom and look
upon the faces of my students, I see a vast ocean of possibilities. Whenever I talk to my
two younger brothers and listen to how their days have been, I hear echoes of my youth,
of my own innocence and naivety. Whenever I see teenagers anywhere, I remember my
younger self, when dreaming is free and there is safe assurance of a tomorrow.
Reynaldo de Guzman, 14, would never have the luxury of remembering. All he would
ever have now is a space underground, his body to be consumed by the earth. If the
dead could even remember, I would hate to imagine his last memories. I firmly believe
that no child, under any circumstance, deserves to die that way — alone and in so much
pain. If I could wish him anything now, it’s that he no longer remembers his last
moments, his last gasp of breath, his last desperate attempt at life.
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The burden of remembering must be on us.
It started with a promise, and we were so desperate for the possibility of change that we
too foolishly and too easily believed it. Most of us still do, unfortunately. I remember
how I, frustrated, turned off my laptop last week after browsing through my Facebook
news feed and reading comments on a news report regarding the murder of Grade 12
student Kian delos Santos. The commenters, many of them, wrote that the teen had it
coming to him, being son and nephew to drug pushers. They said he was never the
victim but the criminal, and that his death—no matter how violent—was necessary.
Some even had the imagination to remark that it was all a part of a conspiracy to
discredit the government, as if the 17-year-old had signed himself up to be a pawn in a
political game of chess.
Then there was the death of Carl Arnaiz, 19, who, according to police reports, tried to
rob a taxi driver and made a run for it while firing shots at responding police officers.
He died of gunshot wounds possibly sustained while kneeling or lying down, his wrists
bearing marks of being cuffed or tied. He was a university student and an OFW son. He
was battling depression and trying to make ends meet. He was on the streets outside of
curfew, and he was a kid. Now he is dead, and tagged as a criminal.
Reynaldo de Guzman, or “Kulot,” went out with Arnaiz on the night of Aug. 17 to buy
midnight snacks, and he never returned. Think of it: He must have been so happy with
the prospect of buying chips with what little money he had with him at the time. After
all, it does not take much to satisfy a child. But Kulot was not happy for long. Thirty
stab wounds and a roll of tape wrapped on his face killed that happiness. He was 14.
Now he is dead.
I used to look at children’s faces and envy them for their youth. Now I look at my
students’ faces and imagine their laughter turning into groans of pain and pleas for
mercy. I look at my brothers and see a face covered in tape, the body pockmarked with
holes and stained with blood. I look at children running on the streets and hope that they
eat their favorite food, and watch their favorite TV show, or celebrate their birthday
because that just might be their last shot at being young and alive.
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I look at children now and I realize that at this moment in my beloved Philippines,
being young has become a curse.
What is even worse is that, in the midst of all these violence, in the reality of our
children being slaughtered like pigs, some of us have the temerity to blame the young
for their own deaths while the majority of us sit in the comfort of our safety,
remorseless and apathetic. Some of us might shake our heads and feel aghast, but only
for a moment. When the novelty of the news ceases to horrify us, when their deaths are
no longer what’s trending on Facebook or on Twitter, we would then continue scrolling
down our news feeds, reverting to watching puppy videos and concerning ourselves
with the many petty concerns in social media. We will forget them: these children’s
faces, their names, the horrendous injustice inflicted on them—all of those will be
nothing but memories we would naturally forget because they no longer cater to our
interests.
We are savages. All of us.
We dream of change. We dream of a society free from the threats of crime and illegal
drugs. We pride ourselves in our democracy and our supposed freedom. We make
ourselves believe that we work hard because we want to make the Philippines a great
country. And yet we let our children get killed. We turn a blind eye. We shrug and say,
“It’s done.”
We are savages. All of us.
Don’t we all aspire for the better because of the children, because we want them to have
a better shot at life? If we just let them get killed like flies, what does that make of us?
Aren’t we, for our indifference, also responsible for their deaths?
I hate to think that I would see the day when children will no longer be allowed to be
children. I hate to think that with all the dreams we aspire for ourselves and for our
society, we forget to value the life of our youth. In seeking a better future, we
unwittingly permit the murder of that same future. The time we start blaming children
for the faults of their elders is the time we lose them. The time we start tagging them as
criminals for being out at night to buy snacks is the time we lose our humanity. The
time we start shrugging and stop caring about this injustice is the time we start
forgetting and stop mourning. When we do, then we become monsters. We become
savages.
All of us.
***
Liz L. Palaña, 24, is teaching English at the Korean International School Philippines
and working on her master’s degree in literature at the University of the Philippines
Diliman.
Read more: http://opinion.inquirer.net/107002/we-are-savages#ixzz4tYiuxKGc

YOUNG BLOOD
Manners maketh man

By: James Vincent Natera - @inquirerdotnet
Philippine Daily Inquirer / 05:00 AM October 29, 2017
Am I the only one who has noticed that we’re becoming so negative online? Snide
arguments on issues in comment sections, online forums, and the like have overridden
otherwise innocent platforms. Facebook and Twitter, in fact, have both been afflicted
with a serious case of internet trolls. Even world leaders share the same vulgarity.
Sometimes I can’t help but wonder: How much of what we say online would we
actually be willing to say in real life?
But this is not to say that dissent and discourse are not important. It’s the manner in
which these are carried out
that calls for a discussion on whatever happened to good manners. More importantly,
since when have good manners become irrelevant online?
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The introduction of the first iPhone was a milestone for tech-savvy millennials. To this
very day, millions of people from all over the world still gather in long queues just to
get the first glimpse of a new technological masterpiece. But the interest in technology
and its inseparable constituents grew proportionally with the rise of a less than humble
attitude.
Technology is now being blamed by many as one of the chief causes of our growing
incivility. The older generation likes to trivialize the newer generation’s attachment to
technology,
saying that all of these innovations are simply distractions.
But much of the issue doesn’t necessarily revolve around technology and social media
itself; instead, it lies with the approaches people have adapted in response to these
growing trends. Technology doesn’t cause anything per se. It’s not an actor in society,
nor does it maintain a position of power. It also doesn’t have the ability to exercise
freedom. It is ourselves that do things with technology, and ultimately we let it change
our lives whether we like it or not.
Take YouTube, for example. About 4.9 billion YouTube videos are viewed daily,
making it one of the biggest social media corporations in the present time. But
YouTube has shifted from its original intention of purely sharing videos to becoming a
discursive sphere for people worldwide at the same time.
The infamous comments section has not only gained attention for being a source of
humorous insights; it has also been labeled one of the most toxic cesspools in social
media. No video is spared the racist, sexist, and outright disgusting comments that
plague and vilify an otherwise harmless platform. It just goes to show that the origin of
incivility is not in social media and technology itself, but in the people that have been
allowed to abuse such a privilege.
The cyberrealm lacks the nuances that we experience in face-to-face exchanges. This
reality eventually waters down our accountability for our actions. The internet has
indeed reduced limitations on many things. It has reduced limitations on being rude to
other people and leaving snarky remarks for them to see. It has also made it easier for
certain affairs to be highlighted and for other individuals to interject their own opinions
into these matters. The reason we’ve become so rude is this: We’ve been given more
avenues to express our true feelings without having to face the consequences in a direct
manner. Users now hide behind fake names and accounts, concealing their true
identities beyond the screen. Gone are the days when we sweat, when our feet go cold,
and when our face turns red when confronted. We can now easily hide behind a
computer screen so we feel like we can still protect what’s left of our own dignity.
When entering a world of endless possibilities, it’s hard to completely regulate the
things that surround us. The instant factor of social media allows it to be a place of
quick thoughts, leaving no room for reservations. An unassuming opinion on a current
issue often leads to a brawl. While scrolling through my Facebook news feed, it’s hard
not to see an intense argument between friends or a toxic discussion among peers.
Nowadays, it’s also hard not to witness ill-mannered and vulgar remarks from world
leaders online.
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Technology and social media can definitely amplify our emotions, regardless of what
the situation may be.
Politics is perhaps another cause of our growing incivility. People are divided between
political colors, and disagreements on certain issues break relationships both
temporarily and permanently. Sometimes the dispute begins in social media and
continues in real life.
Social media and politics have painted themselves to be a toxic mix, with each side in a
political issue strongly accusing the other of folly, so that the objective truth becomes
the main casualty in the battle royale. It’s useless to be a defender of the truth when you
can always belittle your opponent without thinking about the repercussions of your
actions.
There is nothing wrong with emotion-laden discourse, but it should never be exchanged
for logic. Once we dilute ourselves to mere fallacies like non sequiturs, sweeping
generalizations, and the notorious ad hominem, we become more than hypocrites. Our
growing incivility is not brought about by the fact that social media has taken over our
minds and fingers; it’s provoked by an absence of agency and a lack of proper
motivation to preserve good manners. We must remember that we participate in
discourse to achieve a public good, not to belittle others and boost our egos. There is
more to argumentation than just self-gratification.
Promoting constructive public discourse and a healthy online environment is important,

but this cannot be achieved until we arrive at the public consensus that there is an
imminent problem that needs to be addressed. Harry Hart from the film “Kingsman”
said that “manners maketh man,” but I’m sure he’d also agree with me that it’s better to
just have good manners because they cost nothing, and defamation lawsuits cost a
fortune.
However, I could be wrong. Maybe everyone has been rude all along, and it just took
social media for our true colors to be revealed. Or maybe there is still an inherent good
in all of us, and we just need to preserve it for the sake of our own humanity.
***
James Vincent Natera, 18, is in Grade 12 at Paref Springdale School.
Read more: http://opinion.inquirer.net/108253/manners-maketh-

man#ixzz4xKNL24Ug
An Open Letter To The Woman

I’m Going To Fall In Love With
By Benre J. Zenarosa, July 21st 2017
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 http://tcat.tc/2tLBSnB
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Cristian Newman
Dear you,
I know you’ve been waiting for me to finally come along, for us to meet, to
have that ‘slow mo’ moment, for one of your dreams to be granted, for you to
believe in the power of a prayer again, but please understand why it’s taking a
little longer.
I still got a lot of growing up left to do. I have to understand myself better:
strengths and weaknesses, what trips me off, what excites me, my motivations
and aspirations, my personal goals. No doubt, I’ll commit mistakes and will
get hurt so that when we finally meet, I’m stronger and more prepared to face
the tides of life with you.
Please keep believing. Believe on the goodness of people. Don’t put up

those walls right away when you meet a stranger you do not like. They may not
have the same perspectives as you do, but who knows, they may have good and
pure hearts. Give them a chance, learn to listen to their stories if the situation
asks for it. Be there when they need a shoulder to lean on. Of course, it is
inevitable that there are those who look like a saint on the surface but a beast
inside. Be sensitive enough to distinguish and identify them as early as you
can. Test them. Protect yourself always.
Never cease praying. No, don’t just pray for me, a yet unknown soul in a
planet of about 9 billion people. Pray for your family, your country, and those
who are in the midst of conflicts on different parts of the world. I think about
them the same way I think about you. Just the thought of you fuels me to face
each day with cheer in my core. I wonder how you look like, the tone of your
voice, your laughter, your eyes, how you wear your hair…
I don’t want us to just be passive citizens of the world but

contributors and workers for other people to be awakened to
the reality that we should care about each other; that they
may transform their societies towards the echelon of
authentic progress.
Travel. I want you to discover other cultures and understand that we’re but a
speck of dust in the vast universe. Learn another language, try their delicacies,
and savor the warmth of their welcome. Take photos with them with a smile
on your face so that when our hearts finally meet, we’ll share our experiences
and learn from each other.
In theaters, I will hold your hand. We’ll laugh and cry and be scared to
death together. By then, we’ll buy large-size popcorn. We’ll visit every
museum, art gallery, and exhibit that we like for us to reconnect with the
beauty of history and appreciate the passion and dedication that dignified men
and women who have existed even before you and I were born have poured to
their works. We’ll have infinite exchanges of our favorite songs and music
artists and we’ll sing together whenever possible. I vow to be a loyal audience
member of your every concert performance; the intimate ones, just you and I
while staring at the sunset.
Enjoy your coffee. I want you to have those serene episodes for you to get in
touch with your own thoughts, with your deepest dimensions, while taking a
sip from your cup. Someday, we’ll talk and share our ideas about everything.
I know that whenever it rains, you think about me. You imagine us
leisurely walking together on the sidewalk with mutual respect and
admiration. Someday, I’ll hold your black umbrella and I’ll share my coat with
you. We’ll find home in each other’s arms.
In that moment when you wanted to give up, when you feel like I don’t exist, I
will show up not with a tie and suit and greasy hair; not as a fountain of
answers to all your worries; not as a dashing prince charming riding a white
horse under the summer sun. I will show up at a time you least expected.
You’ll know that I have arrived because I will never give up on you even if
you’ve put up a wall before I knew your name and yes, even before I said ‘Hi’
to you. You’ll know that I am the one that you’ve been waiting for because I
will never let you doubt my sincerity and love for you. And then, I will show
this to you and you’ll understand why it took me a while.
You’ll never be alone again.

Sincerely yours,
Your man
Benre J. Zenarosa
Benre J. Zenarosa is a Lasallian Scholarum Award-winning essayist from Manila,
Philippines.
OPINION / COLUMNISTS
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YOUNG BLOOD
Spirited away
By: Benre J. Zenarosa - @inquirerdotnet
05:04 AM October 31, 2017
Weeks after my father passed away when I was in grade school, I raised a question to
our catechist, Ms. Y: “Where does a spirit go after a person dies?” My classmates and I
were then sitting on the steps in front of a Catholic church in the financial capital. Ms.
Y responded: “Ben, he’s in heaven with God. He’s watching over you. Pray to him
every time.” Still baffled, I followed up with more questions: “But will he be bothered
if he sees me getting low scores or failing grades, or unable to submit projects on time
because of his absence? Does that mean that the dead still think about us, the living? Do
they still have problems in heaven, a supposed worry-free paradise?”
At a loss for answers, she moved on with her discussion. But I did not.
In this Catholic nation, it’s instilled in the majority that we should observe Undas, a
holiday where families visit cemeteries to lay flowers and light candles on the graves of
their loved ones, to honor them.
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I still vividly remember how every year after my father’s death, I took on the task of
repainting his grave a week before the holiday at the Manila South Cemetery. With a
small towel covering my nose to avoid inhaling the vapors from the white paint, I
gleefully sang to my father some Fernando Poe Jr. songs, to bond with him, to
reminisce on the old days, to feel his presence. FPJ, known as “the King of Philippine
Cinema,” was his favorite actor.
After painstakingly removing the wild grass that had grown around his grave, I talked
to him, whispered my dreams that I hoped he’d help me realize, and asked him to guard
and guide us, especially my mom who had to take on the gargantuan role of being
father and mother of the family after he left.
It was always an emotional ride from the entrance of the cemetery to his grave close to
the center. Spirited away, I succumbed to flashes of memory: his laughter while
watching a Dolphy show, his chicken tinola, his low, manly voice, our weekend
afternoon sessions of counting the number of white, curly hairs I could pluck from his
head, which was directly proportional to the number of pesos I would earn to buy my
favorite orange drink and biscuits.
Years later, I questioned everything.
As a once devoted and proud Catholic, I became more inquisitive about things of the
spirit, religion, faith, and the Bible when I entered college. After rereading Jose Rizal’s
novels, “El Filibusterismo” and “Noli Me Tangere,” confusion plagued my mind. Rizal
is our national hero but I wondered why most of us don’t heed his words. We even have
“Rizal” as a required subject in tertiary education, to delve deeper and study his life and
works, to learn from him, to inculcate in us the virtues of an exemplar of Filipino
brilliance and excellence. But do we understand him? Have we realized the principal
reason he was banished, with all his might and courage, from the face of the earth,
which we commemorate every Dec. 30? Are we blind to historical facts?
On page 72 of the “Noli,” Rizal wrote: “But now, let’s see how the idea of Purgatory,
which is absent from both the Old and the New Testaments, became Catholic doctrine.
Neither Moses nor Jesus Christ make the slightest mention of Purgatory…” Yes,
purgatory is never mentioned in the Bible. A quick search in your electronic Bible can
prove this to you. The question then is: Where did the doctrine of purgatory come
from?
What about the scrapping of the doctrine of limbo by then Pope Benedict XVI when he
authorized the Catholic Church’s International Theological Commission on April 22,
2007, to publish a 41-page document titled “The Hope of Salvation for Infants Who Die
without Being Baptized”? In an article written in Rome for Telegraph.co.uk, Nick Pisa
reported: “Babies who die before being baptized will no longer be trapped in Limbo
following a decision by the Pope to abolish the concept from Roman Catholic
teaching.”
Why do we have to light some candles, thick and thin, big and small, during Undas?
Why do some Catholics steal and disrespectfully recycle the very candles of their
fellow Catholics that are believed to illuminate the path for their deceased? Why are we
made to believe that our departed loved ones are guarding and guiding us from heaven?
Isn’t it true that the dead know nothing, as what’s written in Ecclesiastes 9:5 (New
International Version), “For the living know that they will die, but the dead know
nothing; they have no further reward, and even their name is forgotten”?
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For hundreds of years people have been made to believe in doctrines that have no basis
in the Bible. Worse, these are just invented teachings that go against the principles of
truth and justice. But to no surprise, when I brought this up to the other members of my
Catholic family, they were caught uninformed. Because of fear for our souls to be
condemned, we grew up following our leaders without testing or asking them, and, like
a sail in a vast ocean with no map, GPS tracker, or a virtuoso captain to follow, we’re
clueless on why we practice or celebrate centuries-old traditions.
While it is true that we’re a democracy and that our Constitution protects our freedom
to choose and practice a religion, it is time to rethink our stand and course. We’re living
in a world where access to information is encouraged—something nonexistent when the
greatest Filipino who ever lived challenged those in authority in his time using his
proverbial pen as his sword. Yes, there’s fake news. Yes, deception is rampant. Yes, it’s
an uphill battle to get to the bottom of things. But today, more than ever, we have a duty
to get to the truth, for veracity to shine, not just for other people but for our own sake—
for our souls.
The choice is in our hands.
And with God’s grace and mercy, someday I hope to talk to my father again. No, not in
this world, not next to his grave, or while sitting in front of another Ms. Y, but with the
almighty Father in heaven, in his paradise.
***
Benre J. Zenarosa (zenarosabenre.wordpress.com), 27, is a former Catholic and

award-winning essayist.
Read more: http://opinion.inquirer.net/108308/spirited-away#ixzz4xKaJJZgD


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