The Bud Volume 32, Issue No. 02

JAN

M AY 2 0 1 9

Nº2

32

C OVE R STO RY

YOUNG, WILD, & WANTING TO BE FREE Page 14

“

There can be no keener revelation of a society’s soul than the way in which it treats its children.

— N E LS O N M AN D E LA

theBUD

theBUD 32

The Official Student Publication of the UNP Laboratory High School

E D I TO R - I N - C H I E F

Elaine Angelie Organo AS S O C I AT E E D ITO R

Darian Keith Andia I N T E R N AL MA N AG I N G E D ITO R

Nadeen Dominique Valenciano E X T E R N AL M A N AG I N G E D ITO R

Jienne Crizelle Alegre

N EWS E D ITO R

E D ITO R IA L B OAR D & STAF F

CARTO O N I STS

Nate Lois Emilio

Christian Jehro Ulita, Bernard Gonzales, Donna Jaramillo, Rainor Johnsen Bocaling, and Aldrin Ridonga

C U LT U R E S E D ITO R

G R AP H I C ART I STS

Maria Alexandrei Quilala F EAT U R E S E D ITO R

Mark Julius Donato

Jade Gacusan, and John Dave Tabillos

LIT E RARY E D ITO R

Trixie Anne Segismundo S P O R TS E D ITO R

Dahlia Marie Elysse Camacam

P H OTOJ O U R NA LI STS

Jasmine Monique Taberna, Julienne Lazaro, Xyrel Daena Ramos, and Melah Angela Aquino LAYO U T AR T I STS

Janine Amano, Imee Rose Cadlum, and Jude Jambalos

STAF F W R I TE R S

Chareena Rojas, Raychelle Alaibilla, Joenald Caliboso, Catherine Bautista, Safa Marzan, Yahna Ysabelle Reotutar, Mary January Chan, Jean Ann Ponce, Khamille Faith Vivit, Gamalielle Bagorio, Zerica Adelle Perlas, Zaira Alysse Perlas, Jan Kyle Rapanut, Christian Venezuela, Merle Brandon Rafanan, John Lowie Suyat, Mark Jameson Pilot, Princess Jaizelle Valer, and Kateleen Yahna Marie Somera

ON LI N E

thebudofficial@gmail.com unplsthebud unplsthebud

2

ADVI S E R

Ms. Marielle Ann Verzosa C O N S U LTA NT

Aurelia Vitamog, EdD

Š C O PYR I G HT 2019 T H E B U D

Reproduction without written permission is strictly prohibited. The Bud Editorial Board and Staff reserves the right to edit, publish, or not publish contents for reasons of libel, space, and ethics.

D I S C L AI M E R Some of the pictures in this issue are not owned by The Bud, hence copyright belongs to their respective owners.

C OV E R

Jade Gacusan

“There can be no keener

revelation of a society’s soul than the way in which it treats its children.

— N E LS O N M AN D E LA

3

editor’s note Ang pagpikit ay hindi pagkabulag.

Ang pagmulat ay pagpaslang sa kamusmusan.

Ang pagsali sa digmaan ay pagsupil sa kahinaan ng loob.

Bilang manunulat ng pahayagang pangkampus, kasangga namin sa himagsikang ito ang aming mga panulat nang may adhikaing tugma sa aming prinsipyo.

Elaine Angelie Organo EIC

Sa loob ng anim na taon ay inilaan ko ang aking panahon sa digmaang ito. Saksi ang mga pahina ng mga isyung nailimbag sa aking pagsibol bilang manunulat, at higit sa lahat, bilang isang mamamayan. Ang pagiging kasapi ng pahayagang ito ang nagudyok sa akin upang hubaran ang mundo, at piliin ang hindi pananahimik. Sinubok nito ang aking kakayahan bilang isang manunulat at higit sa lahat, ang aking prinsipyo. Ang aming halaga ay hindi nasusukat sa bilis ng produksyon ng aming dyaryo, o ng kahit anumang karangalan, bagkus nasusukat ito sa mga salitang nakaukit sa bawat pahina ng aming pahayagan na sumasalamin sa aming prinsipyong maipahatid ang aming tunay na hangarin.

Kami, bilang mga batang mamamahayag ay nakikiisa sa pagtataguyod ng matapat at matuwid na pamamalakad at pamumuno sapagkat kami rin, katulad ng ibang mamamayang Pilipino ay inaalipin din ng administrasyon at gobyerno. Kung kaya’t ang aming mga tinig ay hindi mananatili sa mga sulok ng aming paaralan, bagkus, ito’y aalingawngaw.

Inihahayag ng isyung ito ang aming mga hinagpis at hinanaing bilang anak ng Inang Bayan. Kami ay lubos na nagdadalamhati sa pagdurusang kinahaharap nang aming Ina sa rehimeng ito. Pasan niya ang kahirapan, karahasan, katiwalian, at pang-aabuso ng gobyerno kung kaya’t pinagkaisa namin ang aming mga tinig.

Kasama ng aming mga sining at akda ay patuloy kaming magkakaisa para sa mas maunlad at mapayapang Pilipinas.

Dadalhin ang aming tambuli at kailanma’y hindi maililibing ang diwa ng aming pakikibaka. ●

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new s

LS - S H S AT T E N D S R E S E AR C H C O N G R E S S Page 6

s p orts

B E H I N D TH E MON I KE R S Page 10 features

VE N D I V I D I V I C I Page 12 literary

A MOU R N FOR TH E 12TH MOR N Page 20

humor

[S O R RY ] F O R T H E I N C O NV I N I E N C E Page 24

op inion

B ET W E E N T H E WEE HOURS Page 26

IN TH I S ISSUE

5

LS-SHS attends research congress Ma. Alexandrei Quilala

Studes attend 6th National Students Research Confab FIVE SENIOR HIGH SCHOOL STUDENTS from the University of Northern Philippines showcased their wits and skills in the field of research as they represented the laboratory Schools during the 6th National Student Conference anchored with the theme “Nurturing Student’s Research Character,” held last May 21-22 at the Citystate Asturias Hotel, Puerto Prinsesa City, Palawan.

Pupils;” Jean Ann G. Ponce with her study entitled “Partner Preferences: Desired Characteristics of Men and Women in their Long Term Romantic Partners,” Jansen A. Tacata with their study, entitlted “Geometric Patterns of selected Churches in Ilocos Sur,” and Dahlia Marie Elysse Camacam with her study entitled “Abel Iloko and its Untold Story to Caoayanos.”

The said students were selected as Best Researches in their respective classes. They are as follows: Maria Victoria Luzano and Honeylette Aldaca with their study entitled, “Action Drama; Its Effect on the Behavior among Grade School

Dr. Aurelia T. Vitamog, Dr. Rainalda T. Rambuyon, Ms. Jennielou Pigao, Ms. Rosejane Advincula , Mr. Jake Garnace, and Mrs. Digna Jacob served as they research advisers and critics. ●

Young Innovators bag awards in Uniwide Research Congress TEN STUDENT-RESEARCHERS from the Senior High School snatched awards during the Uniwide Research Congress of the University of Northern Philippines on May 6, 2019 at the Romualdo Tadena Hall.

Angelica Elem, Allyssa Cuaresma, Maria Belinda Haboc, and Christian Tactay from ABMA hailed as 1st place with their study entitled “Preparation and Evaluation of Squash Yema Cake Flakes Crinkles.” Elaine Angelie Organo, Ritzdan Jenre Qiuamno, and Kaye Bernadette Rapanut from Grade 12 HUMMS garnered as 2nd place with their study entitled, “Regression Analysis on the Effect of Street Harassment to the SelfObjectification of Women.” Angelica Mae Garbin, Lord Kent Collado, Gueneveve Navalta, and Maiko Erica Labunguen from 11 STEM-A secured the third last spot with their study entitled “Setting Up Equilibrium: Life Experiences of Student Mothers in Balancing their Dual Roles.” They received plaques of recognition and cash incentives during the awarding ceremony which was part of the 4th Gawad Crisologo.

The university research office initiated the activity as it aimed to inculcate the value of quality research in finding solutions of the prevalent issues in the society. ●

ANOTHER MILESTONE. (Top) Dr. Aurelia T. Vitamog posts with the Laboratory Schools’ representatives during the closing program 6th National Students Research Conference. (Right) Kaye Rapanut, Ritzdhan Quiamno, and Elaine Angelie Organo receive their award during the 4th Gawad Floro Crisologo at the UNP Tadena Hall.

Rainalda Rambuyon, and Mc Justine Realgo

P H OTO S

6

news

MariĂąas remains a champ in UP Namnama Jienne Cryzelle Alegre LICIA JOYCE MARIĂ‘AS, a Grade 8 student, snatched the title for two consecutive years as the champion in Oratorical Contest during the 37th UP Namnama Sirib Quiz Show and 20th Saririt Cultural Festival Regional Finals held in San Nicolas Central School and Robinsons Place Ilocos, Ilocos Norte on January 12-13, 2019.

Jilian Pilande also snatched 2nd place in Poster Making Contest. She and MariĂąas will be competing for the PatalaSanlahi 2019, the National Academic Competition which will be held in UP Diliman, Quezon City.

Ten Laboratory Schools students were qualified to the regional finals. Writing and speaking events such as Essay and Short Story Writing, Poster Making, Ilocano Vocal Solo, Oration, Declamation, and Impromptu Speaking.

The Annayas-Saririt dance troupe also represented the school for the Folk Dance competition. “I realized that if you won the last time, do not assume that you will also win in the next one, intend you should always remain humble because the more you stay humble, the more light will shine on the good side,� Licia quipped. �

“

I realized that if you won the last time, do not assume that you will also win in the next one, intend you should always remain humble because the more you stay humble, the more light will shine on the good side. — LICIA JOYCE MARIÑAS

AP P LY N OW đ&#x;ĄĽ

Be a part of theBUDing journalists.

For inquiries, approach Ms. Marielle Ann Verzosa at the JHS Faculty Room, Academic Building 3F.

IN PURSUIT OF EXCELLENCE. (Top) Elaine Angelie Organo, Ritzdhan Quiamno and Kaye Rapanut with Mr. Jake Garnace, their Research adviser, post on stage upon recognition. (Right) Lycia Joyce MariĂąas receives her award during the 4th Gawad Floro Crisologo.

UNP Public Information Office

P H OTO S

LS studes’ triumph, recognized Ma. Alexandrei Quilala

PRIDE. HONOR. EXCELLENCE. The students of the Laboratory Schools were recognized for raising the flag of the university in various regional and national competitions during the 5th Gawad Floro Crisologo with the theme “Nurturing the Seed of Collective and Selfless Service,� on May 10 at the Romualdo B. Tadena, University of Northern Philippines.

Daryll Jeremy Virtudes was awarded as National Awardee for winning during the Kampo Kalikasan. He is also a Silver Medalist of the Dedicacion Reyes Emerging Outstanding Student Leadership Award. The same student leadership award was also given to Aaron Balino, the Governor of the Laboratory Schools Organization. Princess Jaizelle Valer, JulineTacsiat, and Jermaine Joy Tacsiat were also recognized as national Awardees for their achievement during the National Girl Scout Got Talent.

The peer facilitators of the Guidance and Counselling Office of the university were also acknowledged. Alma Angelic Pe Benito and Jolysa Corpuz, were recognized as Graduating Peer facilitators. Zaira Alysse Perlas was hailed as one of the Outstanding Peer Facilitators.

Glendel Owen Arguilla, Jannette Subilliga, Mark Anthony Regua, Jefferson Calbero, Cressa Marie Rojo, and Christine Camille Realizo, Grade 12 students from HUMMS and STEM strands of the senior high school were recipients of Cultural Awards for their participation during the Binatbatan Street Dancing.

On the other hand, Jono Ragonton and Lycia Joyce Marinas were recognized as regional awardees for winning 1st place in Essay Writing and Oration respectively during the UP Namnama Sirib ken Saririt.

Moreover, the recently concluded Research Congress winners in the Senior High school Category were awarded; Angelica Elem, Allyssa Cuaresma, Maria Belinda Haboc, and Christian Tactay from ABM-A as first placer for their research entitled “Preparation and Evaluation of Squash Yema Cake Flakes Crinkles,� Elaine Angelie Organo, Ritzdan Jenre Qiuamno, and Kaye Bernadette Rapanut of Grade 12 HUMMS garnered as 2nd placer for their research entitled, “Regression Analysis on the Effect of Street Harassment to the Self-Objectification of Women,� and Angelica Mae Garbin, Lord Kent Collado, Gueneveve Navalta, and Maiko Erica Labunguen from 11 STEM-A, as third placer for their research entitled “Setting Up Equilibrium: Life Experiences of Student Mothers in Balancing their Dual Roles.� �

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đ&#x;ĄĽ W E E H O U R S Page 26

IN THE UNP-SHS 2ND COMMENCEMENT EXERCISES,

approval. It has shown me that relying on other broken hearts and souls for my own redemption is fruitless. I will not wait for ardent admirers of my art before I continue creating for indeed I could be waiting beyond the death of this body.

Raychelle Marie Alaibilla

358 graduates, acclaimed

The shock of the pain I have felt may never fully go away, it’s just numbed and buried beneath tombs, beneath new memories, waiting to erupt through the cracks and crevices left open in my thoughts. Thoughts that wrap me like a chokehold, never seeming to let go. The process I had to go through is not linear—it’s a maze of distortions, confusion, smoke and mirrors, pain that was never spoken and invisible scars, battle wounds that never made it to the surface.

This is the the truth I have been afraid to speak for so long. â—?

đ&#x;ĄĽ WR ITI N G Page 26 stories that rippled in me. I was freed from a cage and was given the voice—a voice that fights, sympathizes, and weeps for others. Though some situations may seem to be victorious, life keeps reminding me that battles are never ending.

I found both isolation and solitude in this thing I preceded as my home. It gave me a cavern I run to whenever I feel eroded from the crowd and showed me the very important obligation that was left for me. Mislaying yourself is more acceptable than losing the thing that makes you human.

I have learned that, if it is in your axis to write then do not settle for a weak fire—burn yourself if you have to and turn the ashes into valiancy and grandeur. Scribble the words that your heart desire, it doesn’t have to be pretty, but you have to keep going. Fill that paper up until you reach farther than what you thought—until it becomes extraordinary.

The petals that I have thrown away on the journey that was full of uncertainties and misadventures serve as my footprints as I traveled to whoever and wherever I am right now. The way writing took my life, how it anchored my way through and how it turned me into a deity is the most unselfish thing that has happened to me. All the things take a snail’s pace; nevertheless, little progress is still a progress.

It won’t stop with the commas and the periods. An abundance of failures and regrets may catch me on quietness and visit me during unwanted hours still and all, there is an ellipsis that will always remind me to get through. Life, for sure, will take me to a different route and there will be time where I have to surrender to oblivion but I am sure, I will always find a reason to write.

And though my soul is kept between the pages, these are the things I will surely carry to my grave. â—?

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news

NEW BEGINNINGS. Erica Sablay, with high honors awardee, delivers her welcome address during the 2nd Commencement Exercises at the UNP Gymnasium. P H OTO C’Format UPRAISED BY DETERMINATION, hardwork, and perseverance, 358 students from the University of Northern Philippines Senior High School yielded another stepping stone as they received their diplomas during the 2nd Commencement Exercises held at the UNP Marcos Hall last May 17, 2019 with its beaming theme, “Learning Beyond Goals: Surpassing Academic Barriers in Pursuit of Excellence.�

Two hundred forty-six of the graduating class were from the Academic Track which composes of four strands: Accountancy and Business Management (ABM), Humanities and Social Sciences (HUMSS), and Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics (STEM). Seventy-eight students were from the Technical-Vocational track composed of the strands Cookery, Tourism, Information and Communication Technology, and Automotive.

Thirty-four students were from the Arts and Design Track.

Maria Alexandrei R. Quilala, with high honors, from the STEM strand garnered the highest weighted average for the class 2019, making her led the batch as the class valedictorian. “As the class valedictorian, one thing that motivated me are my failures before; it serves as a sign that there are unfavourable things that will happen in my life too. Also, my family, friends, and teachers which served as the foundation of my strength and hope,� she quipped in her speech. Moreover, namely Erica C. Sablay of ABM and Maria Victoria T. Luzano of HUMMS also earned with high honors distinction.

Ninety-seven graduates also excelled academically notching the with honors recognition broken down as follows: fifty-four students from the ABM strand, twenty-six from the STEM strand, four from the HUMSS strand, five from the General Academic Strand, five from Arts and Design, two from the Cookery strand, and one from the ICT strand.

Engr. Maria Victoria C. Reodique, Coordinator, Shop and Built Drawing at the Qatar Diar Construction Company and a graduate of UNP Laboratory High School Batch 1994, served as the guest of honor and speaker of the event. She emphasized in her speech that in pursuit of your dreams, you must also look back to where you came from.

The 358 graduates received their diplomas as well as their medals and various awards which was distributed by Dr. Mario P. Obrero, Vice President for Academic Affairs and was assisted by Engr. Maria Victoria C. Reodique, Guest of Honor and Speaker, Hon. Nestor Pajaro, Alumi Regent, Dr. Aurelia T. Vitamog, Principal of Laboratory Schools, and Dr. Rainalda Rambuyon, Assistant Principal for Senior High School.

The program wrapped up with commencement and tribute song sang by the graduates to express their gratitude towards their friends and families followed by their dance number led by Marc Hanson Camacam, Laiza Mae Fernando, Sophia Andrea Andallo, John Fjord Vagay, Christian Tactay, and Ohna Patricia Reotutar, dancers of the Annayas-Saririt Dance Troupe, the premier cultural dance troupe of Laboratory Schools. â—?

SHS dep’t graces the yuletide season Ma. Alexandrei Quilala

LAUGHTER IS THE STRATEGY. Teachers from Senior High School faculty giddily participate the parlor game during the Annual General Christmas Party. P H OTO Elaine Angelie Organo

“

It was an unexpected outcome; the event was just like a simple ball and a team building inspired.

It was good chance to become a leader and build a great relationship and bond with other students.

— ARHANN ANTHONY ADRIATICO

PURE BLISS. The blue team show how they unite in the parlor game during the Christmas party. P H OTO Elaine Angelie Organo

THE SENIOR HIGH SCHOOL STUDENTS together with the faculty and staff were united as one in celebrating Christmas through the Annual General Christmas Party spearheaded by Dr. Aurelia T. Vitamog, Principal of the Laboratory Schools, and Dr. Rainalda Rambuyon held at the Founder’s Plaza, 14th day of December 2018.

In line with the celebration, each of the students were grouped according to the colors that was given by the teachers: red, blue, orange, yellow, green, white, and violet. The event started from 2:00 in the afternoon until 6:00 in the evening.

It was packed with activities that enhances social skills and sportsmanship such as parlor games with different twists and also dancing and singing competition.

After the thrilling games, dinner was served.

The Christmas Program aimed to let the students socialize as they realize the real real purpose of the celebration. It served as the bud between ae away the students and faculty as it emphasizes that learning can also be fun, and can take place outside the classroom.

“It was an unexpected outcome; the event was just like a simple ball and a team building inspired.

It was good chance to become a leader and build a great relationship and bond with other students,” Arhann Anthony Adriatico said. ●

SHS Ball goes Parisian Ma. Alexandrei Quilala

THE HALL TRANSFORMED into a Met Gala-like venue as the Grade 12 students gathered for their Parisian-themed Graduation Ball, on May 1, 2019 at Vigan City Convention Center.

The event started with an Eiffel Tower Shoot as students flaunted their Parisian-inspired outfits. it was followed by the Parisian and Red Carpet treat, the Ceremony of Candles and cottilion . A French Welcome was also delivered by Dr. Aurelia T. Vitamog. The Class Prophecy, which were presented by each strand, served as the highlight of the event.

Students who stood out during the event were also recognized. Among the awardees were Catherine Bautista and Mikko Julliani Ruslin as the Stars of the Night, Elaine Angelie Organo and Trixie Alimbuyogen as Faces of the Night, Anne Marinuel Nuñez and Onkar Dhaliwal as

Red Carpet Stars, Ohna Patricia Reotutar and Bernard Gonzales as Best Dress Female and Male respectively, Marie Elysse Camacam and Marc Hanson Camacam as Parisian Lady and Man of the Night, Laiza Mae Fernando and Harry Ragon as Couple of the Night, and Marianne Queddeng and Ralph Quinones as Body Beautiful.

Theo Daskileo, Laiza Mae Fernando, and Catherine Bautista, the representatives of the Laboratory Schools in different pageants were awarded with Plaque of Recognition.

The event was a celebration of success and friendship for the students and faculty of the Laboratory Schools. It is also an opportunity for the students to unite as they savor their last days in the Laboratory Schools. ●

OF HARMONY AND FRIENDSHIP. Students raise their candles as part of the Graduation Ball ceremony. P H OTO Great PICS Studio

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BEHIND MONIKERS TH E

THE POPULATION of the UNP Laboratory Schools has been growing since the inclusion of the senior high school department. Because of this, the melting pot grew bigger, boiling more talents, and skills in different fields as they continue to fight and successfully serve the bacon, be it in cultural, arts, journalism, academics, or even in sports.

Without much ado, The Bud introduces some of our home-grown and developed athletes who are raising the banner of the institution in the field of sports. ●

HERMES H IG H TO S S

B UYU TR IXI ALI M

GEN

ZE IS LIKENED to Hermes when ze plays, moving swiftly as ze shows zir domination in zir own court. Ze has been a constant competitor in the university’s Intramurals and has snatched several championship titles in Table Tennis Women’s Category. Aside from zir prowess in playing, ze has been branded as very friendly by zir co-athletes and opponents, making zir shine not just in zir own sport but also because ze embodies the values of a true athlete who exhibits camaraderie. ●

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spo rt s

B AT T E R T H E B U B BY

A M B A LO S D A RY L L E J

HE IS OFTEN PERCEIVED as a joker—someone who cannot take things seriously, too carefree to fight in the field. Well, these impressions will vanish as he steps on the blue mat with his belt tied on his waist. You finally see the kitten transformed into a fierce and determined lion. His recent achievement was when he nailed the 3rd spot during the Region I Athletic Association Meet 2019 in taekwondo. ●

WO R D S

Mark Julius Donato, Raychelle Marie Alaibilla, and Mary January Chan PAG E D E S I G N

Janine Amano

CHESS G A M B IT D U

IQU TE DU M B R ANTHON ET

E

SHE IS LIKE DAVID in the game of chess.

Through her wit, she can defeat her opponent who seemed to be a Goliath in this field. Aside from involving herself in extracurricular activities such as in sports, she still manages to shine in class. She considers herself as a fighter who is ready to fight so she can reach her goals. ●

G U IS E K I K AY I N D IS

E TO N G U E -T I

D T IG E R

C H E C K M AT

E C HAM P

E L R IOT ITA B A S Y A C N B IA

RAN M E L A N AG A IO D N TA IS R T

IE G AC U L A R A M A IN R KO

SHE MAY BE BRANDED as kikay inside the classroom but this 15-year old lass knows how to and when to kick. Little did the crowd know that she is a karatedo player who participated and victored as she brought home gold medal during the 4th Panagbenga Karatedo Invitational Championship 2018. She is now an incoming Grade 10 student and is persistent to excel both in her sport and in her academics. ●

HE IS MEEK AND SILENT in the class but once he wears his uniform and exhibits his commendable skills in his kicks and hits, he becomes his own version of a tiger. He is also recently a recipient of a silver medal in the field of Karatedo during the 4th Panagbenga Karatedo Invitational Championship 2018. ●

SHE IS an Accounting, Business, and Management (ABM) student yet a pro in the game of chess. She exemplifies the spirit of determination and wit as she takes her moves—she always assures that she can defeat her opponent. In fact, she always secures her spot in Region I Athletic Association. ●

AC H I E V E R

R I B B LE R S P O RTY S C

SHER TA M E D S M A

A INE SOMER L E C A N I R CZA

OTHERS SEE HER as a sweet tamed lamb. But, behind it hides a strong and determined table tennis player who has the heart and a solid defense to frustrate her opponent. She always pours a series of sizzling spikes and tricky smashes in every game which makes everyone in awe with her, including her opponent. ●

H AW K-L I K E

E B E N IT O EINO REI P THE BOY NEXT DOOR has the physique of a football player—he was born and destined to be one. He developed his passion in the game as he started early on this sport. His most recent bronze medal during the Governor’s Cup 2018 motivated him to train and work harder in this field of sport.

Other than that, he is also a champion inside the classroom as he is a consistent honor student. ●

GAMALI E LL

E B AG O R I O

SHE IS A WOMAN who is fighting for the most coveted trophy in the field of taekwondo. She is a determined fighter, fierce and strong woman who doesn’t easily quit. She is versatile, too. She can be a writer. In fact, she is one of the staff in this publication. ●

sports

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vendi vidi vici I CAME, I SAW, I CONQUERED WO R D S

Maria Victoria Luzano C O L L AG E

Cwylle Alcain

YOU SEE, when people speak of Vigan, they marvel at its ancestral line of houses. The mere sound of the hooves hitting its cobblestone streets enthrals them. The craze over its famed empanada and longanisa never really goes away. But rarely do they speak of the people who inhabits it—who once inhabited it.

Without a doubt, the picky-tricycle-driverspart-time-negotiators come to the minds of both local and tourists when visiting Vigan. However, the heritage city of Vigan has much to offer beside them—one woman in particular. Her monument is erected just across her house, at the mouth of Calle Crisologo, sitting quietly and observing everyone as they come and go.

Leona Florentino remains unknown to the public, save for scholars. Her memorial, on the verge of the dilapidation did not give justice to her sharp, patriarchy-tearing words. It evokes something soft, a dare, a rage, an intolerable kindness, which is a far cry from what she lived through. Despite being deprived of the opportunity to study and has suffered from her own husband’s rejection, she flourished and became the Mother of Philippines Women Literature.

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f e a t ure s

“

She endures the incessant beeping of different vehicles when the road gets packed and nothing can barely move. The fusion of multiple species from the different establishments fill the atmosphere, some recipes familiar to her, most a new blend foreign and strange.

Sitting at the heart of the city, Leona patiently bore the bombarding noise of jackhammers during construction and renovation. She bore witness to the emergence of shop and restaurants. She was tacitly part of the campaign when Vigan was hailed a UNESCO world heritage. They tore its streets and replaced it with baldosas and there she was, watching. Her eyes loom over the idle kuctheros sleeping inside their calesas, the chatter of an ice cream vendor and a security guard, the perpetual picture taking of a group of friends, the marriage proposal of a man, the image of a family eating together, and an old couple strolling languidly.

She endures the incessant beeping of different vehicles when the road gets packed and nothing can barely move. The fusion of multiple species from the different establishments fill the atmosphere, some recipes familiar to her, most a new blend foreign and strange.

Nothing eludes her completely. When the streets are still for it is too early, when people starts to saunter about, when they can no longer put up with the scorching April sun, when the sky is swathed in hyacinth clouds, when the streetlights illuminate and the employees begin to set up tables for the night’s occasion. For a brief moment, time blossoms into something made-up. She is home.

And then a swarm of people comes into view and a parade of rich heritage reminds her that she never really left.

In the mid-1800s, this very city witnessed her—her longings and lamentations, her gradual transformations, her fierce revelations. In its corners and brick walls, Vigan watched Leona writing, growing, and even when she was dying.

Now she shall return the favor.

So yes, Vigan is the epitome of Spanish colonial town but it is so much more than that. It is also the people—those who capitalize on it, those who occupy it, and those who genuinely relish it for all its beauty. It is emotion incarnate. It loves, hates, and weeps. It defies all attempts to capture it and rejects all shackles. No matter what you say about it , there is always which you can’t. ●

f e atu re s

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01 HE IS TWELVE. His mother is poverty and his father, uneducated. He is one of the products of a love deprived from having a good life. He spends most of his days under the scorching heat of the sun, selling yosi to the tambays and to the jeepney drivers. To add a little income for his underprivileged family, he sells balut, at night.

Despite not having the chance to go to school, he still considers himself lucky because she got a little sister who is now Grade 4 pupil in a public school. If fate favored them, she will someday provide what her family had been deprived of. ●

02 SHE IS NAMED MARIA CLARA like the liquor brand but her grandmother told her that she was named after the girl Crisostomo Ibarra had fell in love. She had heard about Crisostomo, of course, but she didn’t mind. She cares too little for her lessons, and her future. At the age of fifteen, she learned to seek to what could make her the happiest—barkadas, alcohol, and whenever she sees her parents bursting with anger. Good thing, her Yaya always reminds her that she is loved. ●

03 HIS NAME IS ALLUDED to one of the countries revolutionist—Andres. At the early age of nine, he already knows how to burn his midnight candle as he hopes that one day he can change the world.

He’s very lucky he has his own dreams, his own bed in their own roof. He lives with his parents who are both slaves of the government. Someday, he will nail the UPCAT, will take up Law, and will serve the people. ●

04 SHE WAS RAPED at the age of seventeen. She is pregnant with poverty even before she started carrying her unborn punishment. Her mother left when she was still a baby and since then she endured the weight of her own world, not having an idea how to love and be loved. She already accepted her cruel fate but this puzzles her: will her lovely child call her nanay or ate? ●

05 HER LIFE IS AN OPEN BOOK, sometimes summarized into 140 characters.

This virtual universe of her was considered a gift of her generation. Not knowing what piko, tumbang preso, tagu-taguan and playing in the moonlit backyard felt like, she had spent her childhood playing candy crash and temple run among other games in her iPad. She’s now sixteen, and she thinks she always owes to share a piece of her to this virtual world. Sometimes, it is a facebook update about her last quiz, an instagram photo of her meal of the day, and a tweet of her musings. She sometimes wonders how it feels to be real, for in all her posts, just a part of her is. ●

14

Young, & Want be F

WO R

Donna Fae Ja Elaine Ange

I LLU ST R

Jade Ga

THESE NARRATIVES came from inside her telling that she is one human significance as they tell t children face today. And it is true young, wild, and wanting to be fr personas, and masks as persona of their own fate—caught and co suff

But despite all, they manage to h the chasm. They are tough, tough to pull them. These manifest that as their stories document how the the circular path of innocence, re continue to fight and dream an of hope, clinging to what they ca become a testament that t

g, Wild, ting to Free

RDS

aramillo, and elie Organo

R AT I O N S

acusan

m her observations, a silent scream of them. He considered these of the thousands struggles Filipino e, they are still the same—forever ree for they hide in different ages, al conflict. They are the warriors onfronted with what the country ffers.

haul themselves up to the edge of her than the weight of what seems t faith is continuously being born ey are as juveniles running around everie, and even cruelty. But they nd swing in the rough branches an learn from all of these—each they have really grown. ●

06 HE ATTEMPTED to commit suicide when he was 17. He grew up in a home wrecked by parents who always raise their pride more than their voices. His dad is said to be a drug dealer.

His mom is a gambler. Days were filled with screaming curses, broken plates and beer bottles, and fears he unconsciously carried until he turned a teenager. He wanted badly to end his life. But unfortunately life is tougher, it can’t end the day he planned too. ●

07 ZE IS AGE ZERO. Ze was murdered before ze was even born. ●

08 WORKING IN A CORPORATE WORLD with the hustle and bustle of city is his life now. He is a real adult who receives monthly paychecks and whose skills and talents were bargained in a price he thinks is good. He finally got what he wanted—a corporate job just enough to buy what he and his family need. But at night when he tries to sleep, part of him seems unfulfilled. He reminisces the days she spent when she was in his younger years; the story of Juan Tamad inculcated in his mind—the lesson has been fully served—it takes hard work to battle life. He was just not sure if it is worth it. ●

09 SHE’S ONLY THREE. She knows nothing except eating, playing with her toys, nagging to her mother. Never did she know that the world, like a Pandora’s box, will unfold in front of her someday in ways she will never expect—the good and the bad, the possibilities and impossibilities.

Maybe, it would be a lot better if she learned this early, but how can she? She’s just a child. ●

10 SHE’S SIXTEEN. She’s a student who has the passion for words.

He’s a member of the school publication for two years now. Being a student journalist, she learned to shed her fears and speak through her silences. His writing had not just been words but voices of angst, cries, and screams. She learned to be involved in the stories of society, chronicling the lives of people around her, documenting humane experiences and learning from it, expressing her thoughts, brushing off the idea that people judge what they cannot understand. With his age though, he is still considered as a child who can do nothing for the country. But with this work and advocacy, he is already manifesting that he is beyond the strength of their judgment. ●

15

16

f e a t ure s

Sa aking lupang sinilangan, Sariwa pa sa aking isipan ang nasilayan ko kaninang umaga, nakakalunod ng mata ang matulin na paglakbay paitaas ng iyong bandila, pula sa ilalim ng asul, tatlong bituin, at araw na may walong sinag. Ang pagdulas nito sa humahaplos na hangin ang nagpaalala sa aking kamay na kailangan ko itong ipwesto sa aking dibdib at damhin ang aking puso.

Hindi ko kabisado ang lirikong nararapat kong banggitin at sa halip na sumabay sa mga salitang naririnig ko sa iba, nagpaanod ako sa diwa ng awit at sa iyong kasarinlan na ipinaglaban ng mga bayani noon. Ang bandilang iwinawagayway ay nangangahulugan ng ating kalayaan pero, iniibig kong Pilipinas, nangangamba ako kung ikaw nga ba ay malaya na sapagkat sa mura kong kaalaman at kahit ako ay musmos pa lamang, batid kong ikaw ay nananatiling nasa hawla.

Kailan ka lumaya sa digmaan, sa unos na nag-ugat sa galit at poot, sa pagbaha ng dugo at luha, at sa pang-aapi? Kailan mo nakamit ang kapayapaan sa iyong sakop, sa dagat at lupain? Kailan ka hindi inangkin ng mga taong lubos na makasarili—mga taong malikot sa paghawak ng maskara? Pinagtataksilan ka ng mga taong ipinaglaban mo. Inaabuso ka nila kasabay ng kalayaang ipinagkaloob mo para sa kanila.

Unti-unti ka nilang sinisira at inuubos gamit ang kahinaan mo para sa kanilang sariling kapakanan.

Ako ay biktima ng lilim ng kanilang karahasan. Ang masaksihang makitil ang buhay ng aking ama ang pinakamasalimuot na nangyari sa aking buhay. Nais kong tumakbo palapit sa’yo at hiling kong lumaban ka. Hinihingi ko sa iyong ipaghiganti mo ako. Ang pagtanggal nila ng kalayaan sa akin na magkaroon ng ama na gagabay sa aking paglaki ang nagpapatibay sa puso kong nababalot na ng pighati. Binigkas ko nang buo at malinaw ang totoo ngunit walang naniwala sa akin. Hindi mahal ang katotohanan, pero bakit ang hustisya’y napakahirap makamtan?

Hindi hudyat ng katahimikan ang libu-libong buhay na tinatapos ng bala at mas lalong hindi kasalanan ang manindigan sa tamang panig ng mga pangyayari. Subalit wala akong magagawa dahil nakikita ko ang mga Pilipinong bukas ang bibig pero nakatali ang mga kamay—hindi naging malaya.

Marahas kumapit ang mga masasamang loob at nanganganib ako sa bawat kaganapan na maaaring dumating. Sa tingin ko ay hindi na magiging panatag ang loob kong lumaki na walang kaakibat na peligro. Pero nawa ay magsilbi itong inspirasyon sa dami ng mga bagay na kailangan kong aralin.

Sa pitong taon ko dito sa mundo, ngayon lang ako magpapakawala ng pangako - bukas-makalawa, magiging pangulo ako ng Pilipinas. Itatayo ko ang iyong bandila nang may dangal, malasakit, at buong puso. Alam kong ang pagmamahal ko sa iyo, Inang Bayan, ang pinakadakilang nagawa ko sa aking buhay.

Darating ang oras na babangon ang araw sa silangan at masisinagan ang mga batang katulad ko na hindi na nangangailangan pang mamalimos ng pangtugon sa mahapding sikmura at mangalakal ng susi upang maranasan ang mga karapatang hindi tumalima sa aking pagkatao at hindi na rin ito lulubog sa kanluran na may itinatagong hikbi ng mga mamamayang naghahangad ng kapayapaan.

Natatakot akong gagamitin nila ang kahinaan ko dahil wala akong maibibigay.

Kung nais mong malaman ang pangalan ko, diyan ako hindi ako sigurado dahil sari-sari ang tawag nila sa akin: bata, palaboy, madungis, paslit, at paminsan-minsan pa ay magnanakaw. Pakiusap kong sana ay ituring mo ako bilang tunay na Pilipino at tawaging Gabriela.

Alam kong ikaw ang aking tahanan, Pilipinas. ● WO R D S

Darian Keith Andia

#

C O L L AG E

Cwylle Alcain

f e atu re s

17

18

f e a t ure s

ONCE THERE WAS A GOD, and a world they’d say He saw to be good; They say His spirit was hovering over the surface of the waters. A world they’d say He had given light and separated the light from the darkness, calling the light day and the darkness night. The twilight and the dawn were day one.

Once there was a God, and a world they’d say He saw to be good; A world they’d say where He had created the skies, the skies that the ocean would never cease to touch yet will reflect the beauty of. The skies who’s cries scream loud as the roar of its thunder, cleaning bloods in the streets and the kids who sleep next to the street rats and sniff damp clothing of strong and inducing scent to forget hunger. The twilight and the dawn were the second day.

Once there was a God, and a world they’d say He saw to be good; Then He said, “Let the water beneath the sky come together into one area, and let dry ground appear!” And that is what happened: He called it land and He called the water that had come together oceans. they’d say He let seedbearing plants and fruit trees sprout all over the surface of the earth, each kind containing its own seed which will bring more life into this soil. The soil in which we claim is ours by the death of innocent people and children and mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers. The soil tainted by modernization and industrialization. The soil that has kept more deaths within its roots instead of ever-growing life. The water vast beyond our reach is poisoned and polluted. The twilight and the dawn were the third day.

Once there was a God, and a world they’d say He saw to be good; “Let there be lights across the sky to distinguish day from night, to act as signs for seasons, days, and years, to serve as lights in the sky, and to shine on the earth!” He said, and that is what happened: God fashioned two great lights—the larger light to shine during the day and the smaller light to shine during the night—as well as stars.

They said that He placed them in space to shine on the earth, to differentiate between day and night, and to distinguish light from darkness. Like the sluggish priest holding a microphone preaching to the people of what is supposed to be and what is not. To love who and to not love. Flesh among unwhispered pleads to stop. To draw blood and drink out of a golden cup. The twilight and the dawn were the fourth day.

Once there was a God, and a world they’d say He saw to be good; Then God said, “Let the oceans swarm with living creatures, and let flying creatures soar above the earth throughout the sky!”

So God created every kind of magnificent marine creature, every kind of living marine crawler with which the waters swarmed, and every kind of flying creature. And God saw how good it was.

God blessed them by saying, “Be fruitful, multiply, and fill the oceans. Let the birds multiply throughout the earth!” But they didn’t. Flying creatures would come plummeting down after three gunshots, their wings caught against the hooks of steel cages.

Marine animals’ corpses would find shore and the land where all the plastic bags and other plastic

materials they’ve consumed and ingested came from. The twilight and the dawn were the fifth day.

Once there was a God, and a world they’d say He saw to be good; Then God said, “Let the earth bring forth each kind of living creature, each kind of livestock and crawling thing, and each kind of earth’s animals!” And that is what happened: God made each kind of the earth’s animals, along with every kind of livestock and crawling thing.

And God saw how good it was. Then God said, “Let us make mankind in our image, to be like us.

Let them be masters over the fish in the ocean, the birds that fly, the livestock, everything that crawls on the earth, and over the earth itself!” So God created mankind in his own image; in his own image God created them; he created them male and female.

God blessed the humans by saying to them, “Be fruitful, multiply, fill the earth, and subdue it! Be masters over the fish in the ocean, the birds that fly, and every living thing that crawls on the earth!”

God also told them, “Look! I have given you every seed-bearing plant that grows throughout the earth, along with every tree that grows seed-bearing fruit.

They will produce your food. I have given all green plants as food for every wild animal of the earth, every bird that flies, and to every living thing that crawls on the earth.” And that is what happened.

Now God saw all that he had made, and indeed, it was very good! Animals are hunted for a price with their heads as furniture for the living room wall, and skin as carpets underneath the dining

room table or clutched unto a mistresses’ hands.

Men would dominate all, including women whose skin is just for show and body for pleasure, and her tear stained face covered by his big hands and knuckles sink into the flesh of his wife, children and enemies. We would produce weapons to cause fear, destruction and death and to whoever holds it may be furious enough to pull the trigger on anyone who’s skin is darker than the rest and who’s eyes scream more innocence than the rest. Stealing committed by the one who speaks of promises to the people and their mother land. Ignorance and ego overshadow intellect and common sense.

Priests who scrutinize those who have had loved and made love with the same sex spit and later on, molest young children. The twilight and the dawn were the sixth day.

Once there was Humanity, and a world they’d say they saw to be good; The sky will bare light and darkness. The ocean will remain settled and the land will still bare life, trees will grow from the roots tangled up around skull-heads. The sun will be a new beginning and the moon will shed light to its rest. Birds will soar up into the sky as the fish and corals within the deep will thrive in its waters of clear blue. Animals will wander these lands of survival. As long as there are still people who care and do something to make the world better. ●

THE MODERN GENESIS WO R D S

Catherine Bautista I M AG E

Curiosity.com

f e atu re s

19

A Mourn for the 12th Morn* 20

l i t era ry

STO RY

I M AG E S

Raychelle Marie Alaibilla

AS I LAY MY EYES on this plain ceiling, reality woke me up more than I’d ever think.

There was this kid whose wind can never blow off her hair, for she will hold it tight always.

Eponine walked in this hallway for 4 years, taking a glance at everything she can gaze at, but now was different. A boy younger than her with a face so innocent you’d regret every sin you’ve committed, Marius, approached her as she hikes off a steep mountain. Marius was kind, and only for his phrases Eponine felt that falling off the mountain was better than being away from him. She was a girl of so much words, but when he talks to him she couldn’t mouth even the smallest stutters.

For 2 weeks, they always meet at an abandoned park and talked and talked and talked for 5 hours straight without minding off the leaves being carried off by the wind and the creepy sounds made by splashes of water dropping off from an old faucet. You know what’s weird about them?

They were at this age of 11 and they were tackling about how cruel our society is, one thing today’s people can’t have the guts to do so. That is why I’m fascinated by them, because it’s rarer to see this kind of conversations than all these crimes happening in our country; because clearly crimes aren’t even rare at all nowadays.

On the third week, it was a normal day again for them to meet. As always, Marius was there again when Eponine stepped her foot onto the park. He was staring at her with all the passion to know her more in his own eyes. For a girl 11 years of age, Eponine never thought she would even see that kind of eyes, nor a boy very eager to see even just a pinch of her shadow. Orpheus started to talk, and gave a rant on all the terrorism happening on the lower part of our nation. Once again, I am fascinated by how they rant about stealing one’s territory and killing other people’s lives. For 5 seconds, she stopped speaking and softly placed her hands on his shoulders that are broad enough for his age. “Thank you,” Eponine said, and Marius went nuts. He was very confused. “And why are you thanking me?” he replied and grinned a little.

“For existing,” she said and moved closer to him.

Pottery Barn, and Video Blocks

Laughs came out of his mouth but for the truth, he was almost teary-eyed, because he couldn’t believe someone would feel so much gratitude for his existence. “You’re special to me, please know that,” he responded and stood up. His handkerchief fell and picked it up in a speed of light. Silence filled up the atmosphere, and the loudest thing you’ll hear was their impeccable heartbeats pounding so fast.

Without rationality, Eponine was just so glad that even the air she breathes was uncannily pleasing.

She was only 11, with the aim of changing the world, but felt happiness more than candies and lollipops can offer them.

The next day, Eponine bounced her way to the park, with grins on her face; but what she witnessed was an empty space. She was deaf by the silence the park was giving her. Her eyes didn’t meet Marius’s, and for a minute she felt a bullet in her chest and a huge boulder trying to trap her.

Everything felt so different and all she could think of was to wait for him. She waited, and waited, and waited until all that was poured was rain and fragments of despisement. Eponine went home being bagged by the knife which stabbed her heart.

She was dubious of going home, but she had no other choice. For the first time in forever, Dylan didn’t show up, and Avery cried like herself; a kid.

The next day, Eponine didn’t lose hope. She came back to the abandoned park with a mind full of reasons why Marius didn’t show up. Maybe he forgot his way, maybe he went somewhere with his family, maybe he was sick, and other excuses that won’t break her heart. With greatest extent possible, she didn’t want to be suppressed, and maybe that was her nastiest mistake. She felt the misery of her wants and the agony of the abandoned park. Maybe, the park was the same as her after all; silent, crammed with pestilence, and abandoned.

The next day, Eponine felt nothingness. It was her birthday, her 12th to be exact, but didn’t have the eagerness to celebrate it and be jolly like all other kids do. Her mouth didn’t crave for ice creams or pastas, nor stroll to an amusement park

with her family, because her heart only knows how to be amused by one park, and she only wants one person to be with. She realized Marius was now 2 years younger than her and for the third time, I am fascinated by how mature she is for her age. It frightens me to think that a girl 5 years younger than me knows who and where her heart belongs with, because at this point and at my age, I don’t even have an idea who I am. Truly, life is a huge lampoon sketched by no other than us.

Marius was so faraway that her naked eyes can’t earn to grasp its sight, yet he was still her home.

Her parents asked her where she wants to go, but her only answer was “I want to see Marius,” so Eponine together with her family went to the abandoned park once again hoping to see Marius, but he wasn’t there. She cried heavily; enough to drown the whole town with her tears. Her parents were more hurt to see their daughter crying over something they cannot give.

The next day, I woke up.

That pretty much explains the first line of this story. Indeed, I was awoken by the reality that innocence does not always come with the lack of being open-minded. The innocence of today’s children, just like any other aptitudes we normally see, is not to be taken lightly, for our hearts depend on things our minds can’t hear. Being ascertained that Eponine, Marius, and the abandoned park was all just a dream, that thought actually mended the scattered ravens on my mind flying its way to find out why they even existed in the first place.

The story didn’t run on to continue and seek for answers to questions like where did Marius go or whatsoever, but the narrative itself gave me the same sensation of how my fingers linger on the pages of books. Maybe, Marius was more than just a boy who oddly vanished, Eponine was more than just the girl who cried for a boy, and the park was more than just an abandoned place who heard the rants of both of the kids about our world.

In fact, we can more condign than the endeavours of guiltiness let us be. ●

^ Avery was heavy-hearted on her 12th birthday, but being abandoned by her friend without even telling the reason why must not hinder her to not enjoy her special day. Anyways, she was just a kid after all, with thoughts of a grown up lady when she is with Dylan. People come and go, but we should also consider that if a person stays, then we shall call it as a blessing; if someone leaves, then let’s count it as a lesson.

l i te rary

21

WO R D S

mjrealgo, frannyglss, and leanmav I L L U ST R AT I O N S

cwy.lle

22

l i t era ry

l i te rary

23

24

humor

SORRY FOR THE INCONVINIENCE

C O N C E PT

Elaine Angelie Organo

LAM P O O N

Christian Jehro Nolasco, and Janine Amano

WALK THE F

CONCE PT

Elaine Angelie Organo

L AM P O O N

Jade Gacusan, and Janine Amano

25

h u m or

H E R E LI ES I N K

B ETW E E N THE W E E H O U RS Elaine Angelie Organo TA L K TO M E

elaineogn

THE TRUTH IS, I have been afraid to speak for so long. It is as if I am undressing myself and exposing my flesh. I have never been this brave to speak how my faith has been shaken and how my life has been split into fragments I can’t seem to put back together. Suddenly I sit here, tight in the chest, feeling lost and unsure where to look for direction. I spent too long denying my own feelings and now I feel like I am the one who is unravelling. Yes, this is so painful and hopeless. I feel like I have spent my entire life trying to prove myself that I am strong and being strong would be enough. I have spent so much of my energy setting such high expectations to be strong and shelving my own emotions that now I’m tired.

And now, it’s me who has become pale and worn out.

I was almost seventeen when I started losing my peace. I swallowed evils and battled my

U N R E Q U ITE D WO R D S

TH E LAS T T IM E I ’ L L W R ITE ABOUT W R ITING Darian Keith Andia TA L K TO M E

azykeith

AGONY IS NECESSARY IN WINNING back the odds and ends that we have lost in bloodshed.

Shadows can’t save us from burning candles neither from the leaves falling in autumn from an oak tree. The sumptuous breadth of reality that follows through the blinking line of our lives is a clueless riddle—no hints, no parallel lines, only unpredicted pathways that hide on the end of the roads. We are often locked up in a box, hidden, and unknown, waiting for someone to remove the chains we placed around ourselves but, truth to tell, the keys are in our bare hands.

It sounds sorcerous but we are our own antidotes. I have seen it myself after I have ran a mile to catch a butterfly. There will always be fear but do not be afraid of who you are. Anchor yourself to anything close to your soul, in my case, it is in writing. I didn’t know I was deluging myself with words and paragraphs until I felt I was brave.

26

o pi n i o n

demons. I feel like I have to shrink who I am to be accepted and worth something. I am so sick of putting so much energy into things that fail to work out. I keep having doubts of my tomorrows and I just feel like some days are completely pointless.

Every time I play a song, maybe a soul will stop to listen, or perhaps they will listen as they would listen to an elevator music. It may fall upon ears attached to a head that is not prone to feeling or finding meaning in what is sung rather than said, in what is felt in the heart rather than shouted in the streets. When I write, perhaps people would not read it, and perhaps those who will might not choose to understand and still choose to suffer in their silences. The worst part is that I feel like I have to keep everything bottled inside. Up until this point, I haven’t screamed out. I have done what I needed to do without someone hearing the silent cries. I have kept my strength up because who else will?

Grieving is never a straight line, it comes full circle and I feel like I might be forced to live through it again and again.

I wonder how many songs remained unsung and inside, for fear of being received by no audience? How many words were unwritten, for fear of being misunderstood and not being read? When I despair and when I feel invisible, perhaps I will not know a living soul to call upon, or I will dare not call upon the ones I know. For if they cannot tell me that they found meaning

Writing doesn’t require permission, acceptance, and captivation; there should only be you.

Not all seeds grow and there are lights that doesn’t really illuminate. People can buzz up their mouths but get trapped easily because they don’t know how to use their loudness. Writers stole diamonds to create pieces of art in forms of guns and arrows—it awaken minds and hearts of people who are holding clutches, praying for death, and expecting for miracles and justice.

If writers do not spill the ink, our land would have already been bathed with blood. Your appalling discourses and speculative gazes are rubbish. The letters you see are more than letters, they are life. Writers do not hide behind the papers because they are the pens and I am here to tell you that the bravest thing a writer could do is to bleed on those parchments for it gives them the freedom to enter the conclave where they can fight, let go, and forgive.

Writing made me believe that lost souls will unfailingly arrive at a safer place, only you have to keep it strong. I knew it since the day I played with the words that throttled in my mind. I had quite experience in journalism back in my good and golden elementary days which made me persistent on my decision to apply for the student publication on my seventh grade. My vision is still as clear as before on a clear sunny day and I was sitting on a stool at the library during the interview when the teacher asked me, “If we won’t get you this

in these creations of my heart that so gently but honestly speak for me, how will they be able to help me soothe my pain? How could I ever hope to find a glimmer of home in the ones who do not acknowledge me, who put their own voices and words to my innermost feelings?

As I grow old, I realized that maybe we must forgive each other for the walls most of us have put up when it comes to receiving what is genuine and good. We must also forgive those who are no more equipped for dealing with the ills of the heart than we are, for we all apply outdated filters of heartaches from the past to present situations that could unfold so differently.

They say it is easier for a man to receive darkness than light, and perhaps this is why my creations seem to fall upon deaf ears and blind eyes. I am used to seeing darkness and it makes me believe that my creations are unworthy when others fail to verbalize the light they see in me.

When I utter words of love that are neither received nor returned, I think that what I’ve said must not have been beautiful, or that something is wrong when I feel so much, or that I am merely being sentimental fools.

An inexplicable force compels me to continue creating and loving, for it has shown me the meaning that lies beyond words and Page 8 W E E H O U R S

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year, are you willing to apply again next school year?� Nervously, I said yes. But after the results have been posted and my name was nowhere to be found, I composed myself and inflicted to my mind that pen and paper are not supposed to be with me.

On the following year, as much as I wanted to join, fear danced with little hope that’s left with me and I was clothed with outrageous doubt. I know it wasn’t just all about this thing but it was all that I have felt—rejection. No twists of lucks and encouragements passed the austerity of my heart that has been hurt from a mere day a year ago. On my ninth grade, it was then that my heart is full of emptiness that my emotions were let alone spilled in a bucket of crumpled papers. I was dumped with challenges and difficulties until the heaviness of it all turned into writing and it became my escape.

By that time, I was accepted. Challenging is the only word to describe it because I started to write not only to free myself but also to share and educate. My role is to outgrow my passion while I’m taking a responsibility on what I write and on what will be the readers’ benefit from it. It is no longer just me in the picture—it was a body of a crowd who had welcomed and accepted my perspective of the world and the people around me. It is through this that I get to talk in silent screams as I muster my courage to tell and retell Page 8 WR ITI N G

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AE STH ETE

H OW G LO RIOUS I S TO B LO OM W H ILS T D RAINED Nadeen Dominique Valenciano

SUCCESS AND FAILURE are both tightropes— one has to dare to balance as one has to prepare for stumbles in order to survive.

Something such as a ladder of achievers exists in school and personally, I never liked the idea of the highest step or the lowest. Not once are they praised on what they had really achieved, wait, a certificate and an inaudible round of applause had been their rewards. But if we try to look at it, they are praised more for their grades. A label— that will later on define them. The true purpose of being an honor student has been erased and replaced. There’s so much to prove, and the rooms in doing it had become very confusing.

This is not to romanticize how they are viewed. All students go through a series of unimaginable struggles as they are all part of a student’s metamorphosis. But being an honor student comes with greater responsibility,

WO R D S M ITH

O N LI FE & OTHER A SS O CIATED WORDS Jienne Cryzelle Alegre

LIFE CAN BE ATTRIBUTED to a lot of metaphors.

It’s a Ferris wheel ride bringing us challenges to face as we go up or down in the cycle of time. It is a road trip in an undetermined destination where we, as passengers, are clueless to whether we reach our destinations. There are times that it is a piece of cake we just have to enjoy while it last.

Often would I say that it is very easy to live—you just need to be guided with the rules provided—that includes studying, working hard, pursuing goals, and making the people around you happy. I never thought that as I grow older, I will unfold more associations to life that go beyond roads and Ferris wheels, things that are far more complicated than what I have known.

I always look up to many aspiring people who have reached their dreams. Even young people my age are popular, successful and are working for the job that they want. I guess I have to wait, that’s

challenges, and with pressure as well.

If we look at it, the term honor had gradually lost its meaning as it already become one’s validation for intelligence in school—and most students have to go through a lot of pressure to survive while trying to prove that they are included in the top list of the class. Classroom had become a battlefield of who gets the highest score, who talks more, who writes better, who performs well, who submits earlier. But is there a guarantee, that these forms of accomplishments are valid measure for one’s award? And are those awards enough to validate one’s success? Students do it anyway, clinging to this kind of justification as their success in the classroom is not purely for them but for their teachers and parents as well.

Then there comes this sad thing: there is no room for failure when you are one of the honor students. Once they fell a little below the ladder, they suddenly become the talk of the town. They would often be asked series of questions as if they owe everyone an explanation of their failure—as if they have already failed. It’s weird that students are unconsciously trying to impress everyone, and they should maintain that impression as to not put themselves in a situation where they would feel they haven’t given their best even though they did.

than praised. Don’t get me wrong, but as I come to my senses now, it would be much better to learn in a classroom where one is motivated because of his/ her need to be on top. All students go through a lot of challenges but one should always be reminded that the true purpose of learning is learning itself.

It may be considered good—having this kind of validation but one has to work harder, and have this genuine love for knowledge for these will be the building blocks of who we will become in the future.

School accomplishments should not be measured by one’s success or failure. It should be inculcated in the minds of the students that one has to strive not just for the sake of a round of applause, certificates, and medals but for their need to grow as individuals. Though we deny that the honor roll list is a strong point of motivation, students should pour more efforts in the process, of treating the school as a provider of not just knowledge but experiences as well, that can expand one’s understanding to the world. This would make success and failure more glorious— when one has really learned. ●

Students had been privileged enough to have their efforts rewarded through this form of ranking system. But as one of them, it gets tiring to fight in this pointless battle where we are judged more

life. I am still at school, studying hard, going for the medals and certificates, and being the best that I can be for my parents. I love seeing them proud as we walked on the stage though I become a little scared that I have to be consistent to please them. I have been following what they want for years now because I believe that when I go beyond the path they have built for me, I might get lost and tripped my way out of my future.

When I entered high school, I shed some skin to change some parts of me. I wanted to do things that I was not able to do before and so I joined different clubs, tried to get my academic standing higher and made new friends. It was a liberating experience having them all on my own platter—the good, the bad and their consequences.

This stage taught me that life is a repetition- of establishing routines and heeding on them as you set the goals you can reach. This, I have to say, I got used and I started living with this pattern.

To tell you the truth, I was at first, very grateful. I joined contest, I got lost, I won. I started having real friends I could share my problems with. I work harder as I forced myself to be the best inside the classroom. I was still not satisfied that I am way up there and that my parents are proud of me, giving me everything I want in exchange for another achievement. Until the detours came and broke my very pattern, I experienced failing and falling in the abyss of defeat. I began disappointing

a lot of people—myself included.

It is this desire for my greater good that brought me here. I realized that I had defined my life with what I can achieve to please all those around me. I have been making people happy believing that it would also make me one.

I realized that there is no passion in living for the expectations my parents or anyone had on me.

It was neither the small victories in my studies.

There is no life in constantly pressuring myself to be consistent with what I have plotted, with what I have believe is enough to make me happy.

But to be honest, I am not regretful of the things I did—of changing, heeding on to routines, and wanting more for myself. This may sound cliché but through these, I have learned to trust my phase and enjoy my own process. This is making sense now. We learned through the metaphors of life—of its roads, Ferris wheels and other surprises.

And as long as we live, life will find its way for us— so we can figure them out. ●

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