I love to cook, and I love being unnecessarily pretentious on talks regarding food. As soon as I saw this, I thought of some of the uncommon food that I love: lobster laksa, tom yum goong, hitsumabushi. It was only then that I noticed how much I love to put this façade of being “better.” I really take my word for being pretentious. (I’m trying to change, trust me.) I add so much to my run-of-the-mill self. This attitude, I conclude, is so much like porridge. 

Porridge is essentially just grains boiled in milk, water, salt, or sugar, depending on one’s preferences. Everybody knows about it. Porridge doesn’t pick a social class, and porridge doesn’t pick their consumer either. It is not exalted or celebrated. It’s still enjoyable though despite its simplicity. What makes porridge so good is the additional ingredients we add to it, just to mask the plain-ness. Or in a more positive note, add to it. While they might decorate and flavor the porridge, the taste is always going to be under the judgment of its consumer, the value will always be determined by them as well. 

I feel a lot like porridge. It’s a dish that isn’t very special but somehow appreciated and (tolerable) if you just add the right toppings. I don’t get the best grades, my efforts go unnoticed sometimes, I’m not pretty by societal standards—and that’s alright, because I know I can always do a little extra to distinguish myself. My impression is definitely going to be questionable, because people, like food, can’t please everyone. 

Just to make myself a little bit better, I know porridge differs across cultures; you can add almost anything to it, from cocoa and berries to century eggs and Russian caviar. With this much variety, you can always have a different kind of porridge. It’s not going to hurt to add more to myself, I suppose. 

Reviewed by: 

The honourable Alvine Julia del Rosario 

The revered Jochebed Nicole Gamboa 

The definition presented in the Dictionary is being physically attractive. People keep on telling us that the standard of beauty is having white skin, straight hair, bottle-like body or what have you… Even our own society imposing that the epitome of beauty are the Western people because they all have the qualities and they look appealing and clean in  the eyes of our society. But does being beautiful really chain in that standard? Is that really the definition of beauty? 

I believe that being beautiful is beyond that definition and standard because, for me, being beautiful is loving and appreciating yourself. Forget the standards imposed by the society for it will only make you struggle to be like them. It will be harder for you to conform to their standards. Imagine, you have to pay a doctor to inject glutathione in you, so that you obtain your dream to have a white skin. Isn’t exhausting to fit to their standard just to feel like appealing to their eyes? Instead of complying yourself to their beauty standards, why not make your own definition of beauty. Be intelligent. Do not be intimated by the people who have more experiences than you.  Be hungry. Do not be afraid to eat and absorb new things and ideas. Be angry. If someone hurt you, express your feeling to them. Be crazy. Just be yourself, and do not let others hamper your happiness. 

I believe that loving yourself is not a selfish act as long as you don’t hurt other people. It is just that you prioritize yourself first. Putting yourself first is the most beautiful thing to do than being physically attractive. Your beauty will come out once you become yourself. You do not need opinions and acceptance of other people; you just need to accept and love yourself. 

Reviewed by: Nicole Navarro, Faye De Leon, Ralph Magtalas

 

During the previous year, I was so busy loving everyone. Sometimes, as selfless as I am, I even put them first in terms of my priority. Before the day ends, I would
usually make sure that I have made them happy and contented. And when I say everyone, it is the people I've interacted with and became close to me (friends, best friends, block mates, ex-relationships, acquaintances, and even strangers at
that). But as I reflected during the latter part of 2017 (specifically December), I thought of myself not being genuinely happy amidst all the things I’ve done for them. Maybe, because of putting others first, I forgot to take care of my heart, my heart that has been hurt, stabbed, and broken, but still working. I forgot that there is this so-called “internal happiness” that I think, would come after you love yourself.

 

When we say #Self-love, people can and may interpret it in different ways. Maybe for them, it is an absurd concept for they might say that we, humans, as affectionate as we are, need affection every day, that's why self-love is impossible. But for me, personally, I think otherwise. I think of “Self-Love” as a key, a key to my true happiness. It is also a key of me, being able to love others genuinely after appreciating and loving myself first. And me, being able to appreciate my own kind of beauty, a beauty that is  not just about my physical imperfections and flaws, but a beauty that shines among the people I love and interact with.

 
This year, God gave me another 365 days. With that number of days, I promised to myself that I would make myself happy, genuinely happy. I would go to the mall and watch a movie by myself, treat myself whenever I accomplish something good, ask myself out on a date whenever I feel intoxicated with life for whatever reasons the world may give, and so on. This year, I would take care of my internal happiness. Though I may still be the same funny and fun-to-be-with Ralph, perhaps I could make myself, internally and externally happy, first. I am choosing myself not for the mere reason of being selfish, but I would like to think that it is kind of a gift for me, for being good and selfless to other people. In this way, maybe, I could finally meet the right one for me. The one that would give butterflies in my stomach, the one who would never fail to let me feel that I’m loved, and the one who would make me love myself even more. Yes, you need affection from other people, but in the end, still, self-love is the best kind of love one could give. For you shouldn’t wait for anyone to give it, rather, it’s just YOU, not anyone else, but YOU.

Reviewed by: Charlotte Rafallo, Faye De Leon, Nicole Navarro, Belle Aringo, Kath De Jesus

In my 19 years of existence, my life has been filled with good and bad moments that dwindled with the flow of time and destiny. The happy soul that people see in me will always overflow and even be contagious with these people who are around me. As cliché as it sounds, a happy moment will never be a happy moment  if you haven’t experienced any challenges or dilemma for once in your life. In my case, it’s just like any other happy moment that followed right after a bad one, mine would always be a case of bittersweet memories that occurred three years ago. 2015 has been the best year so far, along with a lot of twisties and twirlies that happened—heartbreaks, graduating high school, travelling to another country, leaving for college, coming home for Christmas, and reuniting with my family and friends. In general, 2015 became one for the books because of the new experiences I’ve encountered. But here’s how everything became a single memory that allowed me to realize how fortunate and blessed I am.

During my 4-month break last 2015, I tried to do something to encapsulate my boredom and free time. I just graduated high school and broke up with my first boyfriend that time, so I wanted to treat myself with something that I’ve been deprived from in a long time: my very own pet dog. My parents tried to talk me out of it, but the thought of wanting a pet dog never left my mind. I was not allowed to have furry pets inside the house because of my asthma but one day, my dad came home with a small cage on the back seat of his car. When I opened the garage door for him, I saw a small figure with sparkling eyes that met mine. I squinted a little bit to focus on what that figure was, until I realized that it was actually a dog. A freakin’ dog. I literally screamed in excitement and immediately opened the car door and carried the cage inside the house. Once I got ahold of Oreo, it felt like I held every bit of happiness in my own hands. I did everything with Oreo during those days, we went out every morning to take a quick walk, gave him baths, fed him, and even slept with him. My 4-month vacation became a lot shorter than I expected, it was time for me to leave for Manila and it couldn’t get any easier when Oreo and I parted ways for a while. I got used to the time limit whenever I’m home, but it could never stop me from spending time with everyone. It practically became a routine for us-- for my family, friends, and Oreo, I am only able to see them during my week-long breaks, semestral breaks, and summer breaks.

Eventually, one dog became a total number of 26 dogs when another blessing was given to us, another dog named Kitkat. Our house, until now, is literally infested with dogs and I couldn’t be even happier (not to mention I still have asthma until now hehe) to see them run around the house (well except for the part wherein you have to clean their poop and pee). Though the simplest types of joy will depend on how we view things, there’s always a summation of thoughts that would make us realize that happiness exists in everything. My dogs are my happiness, my family is my happiness, my friends are my happiness, that furry little goofball I saw in my dad’s car three years ago is my happiness. Everything falls into multiple aspects of happiness, well, at least for me.

Proofread by:
Danielle Arcegono
Thea Viray
Phamela Edralin

 

            I can say that I’ve had countless happy memories though I can’t just pinpoint exactly which one was the happiest of them all. But if there is a memory that truly stuck to my mind, it has to be the day when we celebrated New Year’s Eve in our new home. It was such a wonderful and perfect celebration. It made me feel really complete. 2017 was such a tough year for me and my family. My grandmother died earlier that year. Since then, my mother has been having a difficult time dealing with problems that struck our family. I also had personal problems to deal with and it was so difficult for me to move forward. But after a few months, we all decided to move on. We should let go of past and the problems that hindered us from being complete and united. We decided to move on and to move out. 

            On September 2017, we started searching for a new place to call home and it wasn’t until December of that year that we finally found it. We sold our old house and bought a new one in Cainta, Rizal. Though it was far from school and work, we decided that it was best if we detached ourselves from Metro Manila where most of our problems were. We agreed that we would spend Christmas and New Year in our new home and finally start anew. I was extremely excited to move into our new home not only because I get to have my own room but also because we get to shop for new things. Most of all, we can finally be complete and free from the suffocating problems and stress we experienced before. 

            I’m not saying that we won’t have problems in our new home, because problems will always arise one way or another. It’s just a matter of how well you will respond to it. I believe that with this newfound beginning, we will be able to go through anything and pass any trial because we are now united and happy.

Proofread by: 
Alamag, Kate Roxan
Chico, Edward Dunhill
Homol, Jazel Anne Mae

Angelica Alinsod
 

Ever since I was a kid, I wasn’t that clingy person who always says I love you to my parents. I do not show my love for them. It was always hidden. I grew up with a weird relationship with my parents. We don’t act like a stereotypical mother-daughter or father-daughter but rather, we act like friends. Other people find it very cool and yes it is. However, at some point, it wasn’t. Honestly, I do treat them as friends and without me knowing, they are longing for a daughter. Honestly, I was a rebel. The rule-breaker. The one you don’t want to call your daughter. I enjoyed my life the way I wanted to be without considering what they feel. I was so selfish and without me knowing, they were longing for a daughter. 

One incident happen a year ago. I was hospitalized because of pancreatic tumor, thank God it was benign (not cancerous). It was painful.  The pain in my stomach goes around my body and you just feel tired. I’m sweating, bleeding and very tired of living. A month long wherein all you just felt is pain. This is the point wherein I lost everything an organ in my body, my education, theater, and a boyfriend. It was a tough battle to fight the depression and anxiety. I isolated myself inside the room, I isolated myself from people. Things change. A lot has change. That moment, I felt like I was alone. Every day I am seeing the same stuff. It was very lonely. Even if I got discharged from the hospital, it became worse. 

I overcome it . Well, I’m still here, still kicking. All thanks to the one who never leave my parents. They never left me. They walk with me through the battle. I learned to value them and treat them well since then. I realized that it take a nice hit on the head before you learn. I appreciated what my parents did to me. I realized that there are people who will never leave you, it is your family. I guess I did a lot of nasty things in my past but now I learned to value the people who were always there for me. Today, I never felt alone. I am more than happy.  

REVIEWED BY:
Jazzie Rivera
Janna Guinto

 

That is love in general. Love that is usually given to other people but how about you? Have you asked yourself if you love your body, personality, and even your imperfections? Love is everywhere. Love is for everyone. It is not just for you to give but also for you to receive. There is no requirement for you to be loved. Body measurements, skin color, beliefs, culture, and status do not matter when it comes to love.

So if you wake up in the morning with tears in your eyes or if you find yourself looking like you are in an abyss then you have to ask yourself, are you really happy with your life? Stop making other people happy for a while just to prove to them that you are worth loving because everyone already does. Stop giving too much attention to the things that will distract you. Avoid self-destruction. Don’t be a fan of self-pity. Everything happens for a reason. It just depends on how you reflect on it. Be proud. God gave you challenges because He knows that you can surpass them. You can. You should. You have to. You need to. 

Self-love is not selfish. Self-love is more than just the word it is. It is like how you say “Love is love”. You say such words yet the description starts the moment you do something about it. You have to fight for yourself and never let them destroy you. If others hate you, love yourself. At the end of the day, the moment you close your eyes, tell yourself that the tears that woke you up at 8 in the morning today should be gone by the time you wake up tomorrow.

Reviewed by:
Alamag, Kate Rozan
Antolin, Maria Rebecca
Chico, Edward Dunhill

I can transform into anything my mind wills me to be. In the course of my life, I have become a leader, a follower, a singer, a dancer, a muse, a painter, a debater, an actress, and so on. 

Though I haven’t tried every single thing life has to offer, I have tried almost everything I wish to experience in my existence. 

So if I could find a type of food that does the same, then I guess I would be this huge chunk of tofu; a tofu that can metamorphose itself from being a bland, and tasteless semi-solid block, into a delectable bowl of steaming hot scrambled eggs or a freshly grilled pork barbecue.

It can disguise itself into any food variety. Its versatility is incomparable. 

But its ability to adapt, reshape, and remodel itself  is not thanks to its own. I guess a proper recognition is deserved by the other ingredients that’s mixed in it, which helped it reveal itself into its final form; a final form that is appreciated and recognized by the majority and even by all.

And that’s the whole truth when it comes to me explaining how I got to where I am now or how I was able to do the things I was asked. 

Everything I have done and have become are thanks to the other ingredients who forced themselves within my life. I let them enter. I let them seep in, and I let them mold me into different shapes and sizes until I have found my proper niche in this world, a state where I am most comfortable in. 

But there are times when I become stubborn, and I don’t mold as perfectly as some would ask. And when that happens, people would treat me as to how they would treat a drab, pale, and insipid block of tofu. It’s either they would force themselves to digest it, or throw it out. 

Honestly, I don’t get depressed whenever that happens, people do what they want to do. And also, sometimes, I feel like the only reason I didn’t remold or transform, was because ‘that’ ingredient wasn’t as influential as I wanted it to be. 

They weren’t able to awaken me into changing. So whenever that happens, I just hide their scent and trails within the chunky folds of my inner tofuness. What I cannot see nor hear, cannot bother me. I am, and will forever be at peace with my chunky tofu self. 

So, I guess a tofu is as stubborn as it is versatile. Yeah, definitely me.

PROOFREAD BY: Ralph Magtalas and Mary Kathlyn De Jesus

 

There is this part of me that I want to hide; something I don’t want people to know and I don’t want people to remember me by. I am scared of criticizing eyes and judging mouths that’s why I don’t open this side of me. I don’t let my guard down because I don’t want to look weak and helpless. But here I am writing about it, because finally, I’m okay and better. 

At the age of 8, I was already hurting myself whenever sad thoughts and pain consumes me… This got worse when I reached high school; I came to school with these red lines on my wrists and purple patches on my body. Nobody knew that for a long time, but then, one teacher noticed these lines on my wrists. I was sent to the guidance office and had a chat with the counselor. When I got home, I opened the locks I’ve been trying to keep and told my manang everything. The thing is, it was supposed to be between us, but the news broke inside the household. A few weeks then, a family friend of ours came by, apparently he’s a psychiatrist. We talked a lot and I got to open the dark and sad parts of my life. It was very helpful for me to know that someone wants to talk about it, someone who will really pay attention to whatever it is you’re feeling and someone who feels like a friend. 

Sometimes, the sadness and anxiety still visits me… There are times when red lines and purple spots would appear on my skin. I remember talking to my brother and he told me, “Bakit? Wag mo na saktan sarili mo kasi ako yung nasasaktan. Nicole, you’re so much more. Nicole, sobrang enough mo , even if it’s just for me”. There are moments that I would just want to be gone… These things happen to me less often because I found friends and I have a family who I know cares about me; they make me feel loved and important. 

 After everything I’ve been through, I learned to look for the positive side of every situation. I realized that people go through life differently and we look at life differently. But what I really realized is that, life is something to be cherished and appreciated. Whatever it is that you’re going through, there will be people who will be by your side; someone will listen and make you realize that you are worthy and loved, someone who will remind you how beautiful life is, and someone who will go with you through the ups and downs of life. The scars of your past would remain, but it healed. In some way, a new skin covered the wounds that you’re trying to heal and hide. 

reviewed by Faye De Leon, Charlotte Rafallo and Ralph Magtalas

When I am asked what my favorite food is, with a big smile on face, my reply would always be sinigang. Thinking about it now, the hot brown sour soup, the rich green boiled vegetables on top, and the soft savory meat inside makes my mouth water. Aside from its taste however, which I not only love but am addicted to, many of my fond childhood memories are also associated with this classic Filipino dish. Not to exaggerate but I dare say: sinigang holds a significant part of my life. So if I were a food what food could better embody who I am more than my favorite one? 

My earliest memory associated with this dish would be when I was young; when my mom would come home from the wet market with vegetables sticking out of her plastic bag. I would check to see if it was kangkong or pechay. If it was, then I’d chase her to the kitchen and ask the vital question, “Sinigang ulam natin?” When she’d say yes, I would light up and watch her cook it in our small kitchen. Sooner or later, the kitchen would become too hot for little me to handle and I’d have to move back into our living room. In our small house, the savory smell of meat, sautéed vegetables, and tamarind would hang in the air and creep into the living room. I’d die of starvation and anticipation on the couch or at the dinner table. It was both pain and pleasure knowing that my favorite dish would be served but not just yet. I would wait hearing my stomach grumble and the water boil. At that time, I remembered how it felt like forever. But then it is all over when it is served in a big pot right in front of me. The best part would be taking off its lid and I’d welcome in the steam and the aroma. I would see the vegetables floating lightly on the soup. It’s disgusting to mention but my mouth is a waterfall by the time I place a generous amount of it on my plate. It’s just pure joy to have it as lunch and at times dinner. 

When I think of sinigang, I would think of simple moments like this, of my mom’s cooking and being excited about such a simple thing. The food itself is colorful and flavorful but for me, above its taste, what it really is    comfort. I would like to say that I’m that kind of person: a bit sour and tangy, but has a calming presence. I’d like to be this hot soup on a rainy day, your mother’s cooking on a gloomy day, and maybe even the main course during celebrations on a special day. Sure I may look complex to some or too sour for most, but hopefully, like sinigang, just warm and welcoming to everyone. 

Revised by 
Justine Del Puerto
Dana Cacha 

 Each enfolding itself at "the right time". 

My life is full of numerous happy memories that I would love to share whenever I encounter someone   because I believe that each of my interactions can make a change. 

One of my happiest moments is the day of my perpetual profession.  This was the day I committed myself forever as a religious.  At first glance, this seemed more as a challenge than anything else.  For many years, I went through a number of difficulties and challenges.   Sometimes, life was dark; but every darkness was a light on my way and in my journey. 

On the 28th of January 2017, I boldly made the hardest decision I had ever made so far.  What made this day memorable was neither the people gathered nor the delicious meal shared.  It was simply love.  It was the feeling to be loved and the urge to love.  That day was like a rebirth.  Moreover, it was like giving birth.  It was similar to a woman, who, after the labor forgets the pain endured and rejoices over her baby.  I was so happy that I cried. Yet, I could not explain with words what made me cry.  From that day, my perception has changed. Now, I see events as a blessing for each of them contributes to my growth.  I am also convinced that things happen for a purpose and for every single event God gives his grace and the strength we need to move forward. Living life to the fullest is to welcome every day with a smile and a positive mindset.  This is my motto.  

Revised by
Monique Bernardino
Kate Roxan 
Edward Chico

             I’ve written and spoken countless pieces about “the event that changed my life” and each time, I hated it. I want to further the fight against domestic abuse and sexual harassment without having to deal with a thumping heartbeat, that cold sweat between my fingers, and my brain going overdrive – borderline losing myself. I’ve always had a hard time putting Band-Aids on my wounds that never heal; I’ve always hated accidentally opening my chamber of dark and traumatic past just because of some unfortunate circumstance, and I’ve always tried to put up a wall whenever unbearable emotions come my way because each time I’ve talked about how my dad sexually harassed me, it feels like I’m brought back to that night of how I lost my innocence and how I had to grow up early. If I could just empower people without having to feel these emotions, I would. But these emotions are vital to the story, because it is the story. Plus, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t change me and made me who I am. 

                Since I’ve already opened my chamber of darkness, let’s talk about how I felt that night. That night all I could ask myself was, “is this really happening?” Because for all I know I could just be imagining things- I’m an imaginative child after all. Before that night, I didn’t have any notion of what molestation was. The closest thing I knew about it was rape. That night, I could feel his hands touching me everywhere, so I thought, “this certainly isn’t rape, but why am I crying?” I didn’t know what I was feeling because I didn’t know what was happening. All I knew was that I wanted to get away from him as far as possible but at the same time I wanted to scream, and punch and hurt him because I was so confused of what he was doing to my body and what I was feeling. But then again, I couldn’t do any of that because of the stiffness my body was experiencing. It felt like my whole body was on anesthesia and I had no escape. So, I let him finish and that’s when I ran and left the room. As I slammed the door behind me, clutching my phone in my trembling hands, I knew that I wasn’t myself anymore. I knew that a part of me was left in that room and I could never retrieve it back, no matter how hard I try. 

                And it only got worse from there. I knew my family on my dad’s side had to know what he did. They deserve to know the truth, after all. So after telling them my story, face to face, voice cracking, eyes red and sore from all the crying, I could just imagine how they will reprimand my dad. I kept imagining how they’ll be disappointed and be hurt like me because the man whom they look up to has failed them. But, plot twist! They reprimanded me. They asked me what I was wearing, they explained to me how alcohol can cause a man to lose his inhibition and rationality, and they even told me how they experienced the same kind of thing with other men and that they forgave them because they’re family. But what struck me the most was how they said “’Di magagawa yan ni Bryan. (Bryan could never do that)”. I was heartbroken. Here I was, barenaked, telling them my deepest emotions, how I felt like I was betrayed and used and hurt and all they could do was defend a man who molested his own 13 year old child. I was crushed to my core. And that was the moment I realized I’ll never get justice for the night I lost a part of me. On the way home, it bothered me how if they experienced the same thing, why don’t they feel the same way that I do? Or did they? If so, why did they just accepted that injustice? I realized, this is a deeply rooted problem in the Filipino society- how in order to solve this kind of problem, I had to be strong and be my own person and move on with my life. It was painful to accept the truth that even with all your scars and your wounds, the world goes on. And the only way for your story to be heard and to make impact is to stand up, educate, and empower all people. 

           The wounds of my past sting whenever I stumble upon something that reminds me of that unforgettable night. I used to think that being vocal about this won’t get me anywhere but then I realized, I have to deal with the demons I keep shutting out and locking up. Eventually, I have to let them out and find a way to control them. So I had to lose my innocence, I had to grow up early and see the world in the perspective of a victim But I won’t let myself become just a victim. Instead, I will be a fighter. Truly, the feminism movement still has a long way to go, but just by imagining the number of women who has the same kind of experience makes me think who will fight for them? In the words of my good friend, “Kung hindi tayo, sino?” 

Reviewed by:
Charlotte Rafallo
Nicole Navarro
Ralph Magtalas

 

I thought I have loved myself more than anyone else until I woke up one day feeling like tormenting myself with words such as, “I’m an embarrassment”, “I want to give up” or worse, “I want to end my life.” 

Self-love could probably mean buying yourself a nice dress, getting a manicure or treating yourself out for a nice dinner. Well, I have an eccentric view on that. For me, self-love could probably mean spending half of my day on social media, and fangirl over Korean artists who probably don’t know anything about my existence but still loving them anyway because that’s the only way to make me feel happy, or taking a good nap instead of going out with friends who want to drink until midnight, or maybe taking the long road going back home just to listen to my favorite songs, gaze at the moon, and watch the Manila traffic, even if I’m not physically capable of walking for a long time. 

Self-love is not completely synonymous to selfishness. Not sharing your food is not self-love. Dragging other people down to put you up is definitely not self-love. Being self-centered rather than understanding the feelings of other people is not self-love. 
 
 Self-love is like doing a pose in yoga for the first time. You can’t seem to find the right balance nor the right poses for it but eventually, after several weeks, months, or even years of practice, you'll finally find the perfect balance. It is same with self-love; self-love does not come instantly. It takes time, a lot of time for that. And to be able to find love for yourself, you have to invest on it; you have to find time for it. 

We’re all given a cup that should be filled with love for ourselves. Maybe a lot of people have already filled that cup, some have not. Others may have broken their cups, but I guess mine is a teacup which probably means I still have a tiny bit of love for myself. Sad thing is that, I’m not even half way there in filling up my teacup. We were given these cups to fill it up until it overflows, in that way we can give the overflow to other people because self-love is telling yourself, “You deserve it” then eventually telling other people, “I love you.” 

So, do I love myself? No, but maybe, eventually, I will. 

Reviewed by:
Jochebed Gamboa
Julia del Rosario

There’s nothing wrong with loving or putting yourself first. Nowadays, we’re all too caught up chasing love that we forget about ourselves.  We become so focused on things and people that we think matters the most that we forget and neglect some of our needs. People are so enamored by the idea of someone existing out there in the world that holds a significant missing part in their lives and that meeting that someone would solve all their problems and fill that gap in their hearts. This case may or may not hold true for some people but I believe that we’re all completely perfect the way we are and we aren’t incomplete by any means because we were never broken or incomplete in the first place.

I can recall numerous situations and questions all asking and containing the same train of thought. Asking and asking over and over again if I ever feel lonely or incomplete since I’ve never been in a relationship. It is also during those times that I find myself dumbfounded. Why should I feel lonely? All these years, I’ve never felt lonely or yearned for a relationship because I realized that I’ve been too busy trying to love myself. I came to this strange realization that it is better to learn how to love yourself first before you start giving love to other people. It is because once you start loving yourself, you realize that all your flaws makes you who you are as a human being and that you, yourself create your own identity. You realize that it’s not your parents’, partner’s and friends’ perception that constitutes your own identity but you. You begin to realize that you are your own masterpiece and not everyone you encounter is going to appreciate and agree with your art. However, you shouldn’t even be expecting them to but it should never stop you from finishing and perfecting this masterpiece and your path to growth and development.

Learning how to love yourself is never an easy feat. Some take years to be able to achieve it, some takes a lifetime. I believe learning how to love ourselves is a lifelong journey. We will encounter struggles and stumble along the way as we come to terms with the best and worst phases of ourselves but deep down we know that the only person that will be standing by our side until the end are ourselves.  We all have a long journey ahead of us in trying to embrace the ugliest and worst parts of ourselves but it will be a fulfilling one. I suggest you to stop looking and chasing for that one person that you believe holds that significant missing part of your life because that person is already here; you.  

 Reviewed by:
Angelica Alinsod
Jazzie Rivera

I have always questioned myself. Who am I, really? Am I my own person? Or am I just affected by the people around me? Am I just unconsciously mimicking these people who, if you think about it, are also influenced by other unique people, and so on? Do I really like this one thing just because other people that I know like them, too? 

Am I really unique? 

When I look in the mirror, I question myself, is this really me? Was this the kid that used to run around, having no care in the world? Could I have grown up to be someone else? 

Sometimes, on bad days, I’m taken aback as I face myself, “What have you become? Why are you like this? You would’ve been so different.” 

So many questions arise when you don’t know yourself – when you think you don’t know yourself. 

I dwell so much on hating what people think about me, what people can say about me, yet I rely on them to manipulate who I am. What a hypocrite, right? In the midst of trying to find myself, I get strayed away when something else catches my eye. I pretend to be someone else. And yet again, as I realize what I’ve done, I question myself, is this who I really am? Someone who is just bound to mimicry, never allowed to discover who she really is? 

And then one day, something just clicked in my mind. An enlightenment. What I have been doing to myself, that must have been the reason why I am completely confused about my own identity. Yes, I’ve said it earlier. I dwell so much on what people say. 

I allowed myself to change to how I thought society wanted me to be. But standards changed over time, and so did I. I have been trying to mimic what was prominent, what was popular, in an effort to get noticed. I never knew I would become like this. I never wanted to. Because in every attempt to mask and mold myself, it had only ended in misfortune. A pool of lies, to those around me, and especially to myself.  There was no consistency to who I was. 

And now that I realized this, I stay quiet, observant. Not of my surroundings, but of myself. In silence I try to find myself, who I was meant to be, who God wants me to be. What actually interests me, what makes me cringe, what makes me feel a certain way, what makes me…me.  I am still trying, until today. I still discover little things about myself every day, I take down mental notes, to love myself the way I am. To love and treasure these little things about myself because these are the only things that would truly make me who I am and who I will be. 

 And in silence, I find myself. 

 

Alvine Julia Del Rosario 

France Rinoa Borromeo 

Ann Denise Ramos 

Maybe I’m not talented enough? Maybe I’m not working as much as I thought? Maybe I’m not really cut out for this? Lots of maybes out there. No matter how small, there’s always going to be that hint of doubt coming your way as you try to achieve something. Triggered by endless rejection, multiple loss, and lack of visible improvement even after working 10 hours a day and image training 24/7 for the past couple months, but there’s going to be a certain point where all of those doesn’t matter, the moment your life changes, but until then, you keep moving forward.

It could be due to a passion, a realization, or an experience, but what matters is that a beginning occurred and that beginning is over. It’s called a starting point for a reason, not starting points. People tend to want a lot or be a lot of things, but only for a moment, that’s why they get stuck. This also applies to the people who try to edit their beginning, trying to make it better than the last time, forgetting to move past it. With that in mind, the next step to beginning is to end it. 

Shaping your career according to your passion sounds amazing. Never having to work a day your life, just doing what you love, but of course it’s one of the hardest things to do in life as it’s one of the most fulfilling dream to reach there is. Only a handful of people are able to reach a point where they’re satisfied with what they were able to achieve. As of right now I’m nowhere near reaching that satisfaction.

Starting out with joining one of the most favored dance crew during my third year high school, but quitting halfway due to personal reasons left me disappointed after they won 2nd place in the competition. Next, during my fourth year, I decided to create my own team and compete, but ended up losing at the eliminations whilst the team that offered me to join them then was champions. College began and I auditioned for Precom Dance Troupe, one of the strongest college division crew in UST, but ended up getting rejected. This led me to try challenging an even higher level of team, Salinggawi. A few days after I joined the Salinggawi Dance Troupe, I left after only three weeks due to difference of style between me and the members of the team. I had to wait a year before audition season began again. I was lost for a while but when the time came, I joined Phonetix, a society level crew, where I was able to become the co-captain and compete, only to end up with a loss, placing 4th. Now, I’m currently at my third year, yet I haven’t been able to place at any competition, this left me with a lot of doubts if I could still achieve something in life. Then, seven months ago, I got accepted in Project Pax, one of the strongest team in UST which led me to believe that I could reach my dreams. I started to see change and I got to where I am now. Because of what I learned in that team, I was able to join Prime which was one of the strongest team in the country, which has members that have competed and won internationally. It gave me the confidence and will to keep training and the mindset that no matter what happens, my dream… I’ll get there.

Read by:
Jessa Espina
Angelo Braulio
Faye De Leon

 

Anyone who knows me is aware that I am a very pessimistic person. I always expect the worst out of everything, and for a while now, all my holidays (Christmases and New Years) have been… bad. I don’t really know when or why this started, however it has become quite annoying and sad to the point that I actually pitied myself for always feeling miserable and alone during, what was supposed to be, “the most wonderful time of the year.” This New Year was no different. I woke up on the morning of December 31 feeling like… crap, for the lack of a better term (it was either this or the other thing). I could already hear our neighbors’ “wonderful” voices singing karaoke at 9 in the morning as well as smell the aroma of the various dishes being prepared. When I saw my family doing our usual traditions, I remember considering for a moment that maybe this New Year won’t be as bad as I think it will be. However, being the ever so positive person that I was, I dismissed the thought out of my head and spent the whole day just writing and watching anime. 

When the last 1 minute of the year 2017 rolled around, I could hear the approaching climax of the fireworks exploding outside. I saw my family rush out and it left me feeling confused because we never go outside during the New Year; the dust and smoke from the fireworks always affected my mother’s and my brother’s allergies. However when I followed them, I saw that most of our neighbors, and fellow barangay dwellers, were out with their families… even the little children and the babies. There weren’t any signs of that cursed Judas’ Belt fireworks, the main reason why none of us would go outside, that they used to light every year. Everywhere I turned, I would see different types fireworks explode in the sky. I would see the little children holding up sparklers, and the older ones lighting up those fountain fireworks. I saw how people were laughing and smiling, blowing on plastic horns and banging pots and pans. My family (mainly my mom) was taking tons of pictures... and for the first time in a long while, I actually felt the holiday spirit again. For the first time in a long while, I joined in on the laughing and the cheering and all the greetings... and I was smiling.

For the first time in a long while, I was happy. 

Reviewed by: 

The revered France Rinoa Borromeo 

The wonderful Jochebed Nicole Gamboa 

The esteemed Ann Denise Ramos 

There was a boy back in preschool that noticed all his seatmates were able to copy what was written on the blackboard while he sat there looking, trying to figure what was written on the blackboard. So he looked at his seatmate’s notebook and copied the notes from there. This continued until eventually his parents found out he can’t distinguish red from other colors. They eventually went to an eye clinic and the ophthalmologist asked the boy if he had an accident or if he woke up with such eyesight. The clueless boy replied no with a following statement that ever since he can remember, he never had clear eyesight. His mom asked if there was a cure or some way to help the boy, the eye doctor replied with a remorseful no and added, your son is diagnosed with Retinitis Pigmentosa, a hereditary eye disease that has no cure but the only way to help the boy’s eyes are with glasses. The boy remembers his mom once said something like she would have given her eyes for the boy if it was possible but it was innate, the disease. He sat in front of the blackboard on the floor wearing peculiar glasses with the left lens thicker than the other. At a more recent date, he was diagnosed with Macular Dystrophy in which his retina got torn, with a hole gradually expanding and had to be dealt with immediately. Even today he is still in the front row of seats and would sometimes still go in front of the blackboard and sit on the floor.

                This is more of a literal change of perspective because the boy thought it was normal to have his eyesight even though for so long, deep down inside, he had always known that something was not right with his eyes. After that revelation, he accepted that he had to always be in front and that his eyes were special even if he hated sounding or being called “special”. 

reviewed by:
Simon Tamargo
Jessa Espina

I live for food, because c’mon, who doesn’t?  When it comes to food, I prefer to eat desserts because it gives a sweet ending to the heavy meals. Sometimes, I really do my best to lose weight but my love for food prevents me from working out or following my diet regimen. 

Since I am a huge fan of desserts, I would probably be a Cookie Dough Cheesecake. One day, I was scrolling through my Facebook wall and then I saw this recipe. It was literally love at first sight! I am an avid fan of chocolate chip cookies, cookie dough and of course, the luscious New York Cheesecake and they’re both combined and voila! The Cookie Dough Cheesecake is born. I chose to be a Cookie Dough Cheesecake because it is a mixture of several ingredients. It tastes sweet because of the cookie dough base and a little tangy because of the cheesecake itself. Only a few people learned or knew this recipe that’s why for me it is a unique kind of dessert because we’re just familiar with the Blueberry Cheesecake or the Strawberry Cheesecake. 

If I were to be an ingredient in this recipe, I would probably be the butter because it sticks everything together in this pastry. It enhances the taste and makes it more delectable. Just like my bubbly and optimistic attitude, I choose to stick everything together especially when I face problems because I don’t want to fall apart and crumble.      

When I compare this food to me as a person, I can say that I am sweet to the people around me especially when we both reciprocate kindness. In any dish or pastry, all must be prepared with great love. Love reflects on the food you will eat and the food will definitely taste delightful. In everything we do, we must do it with love and the most important thing of all, we are unique because we are all created differently and there’s only one you. 

I love food, especially the Cookie Dough Cheesecake and one of my goals in life is to actually travel around the world and taste different kinds of food and see the world through the sense of taste. 

Edited by:
The ever-sexy, Jonahley M.Jaucian
The ever-beautiful, Alyssa Marie S. Malapitan
The ever-cute, Justine Allison F. Marcelo 

Sometimes you must hurt in order to know, fall in order to grow, lose in order to gain because life's greatest lessons are learned through pain. ― Alicia Taylor.

The dawn of the year 2016 up to early 2017 marked the worst times of my life. The lethal combination of dealing with several mental breakdowns brought by academic pressure and battling with possible death made every single day a painful experience for me. August of 2016 was when I was mistakenly reported to have a rare heart disease. October, my birth month, of the same year was when my mother was diagnosed with stage III breast cancer. Everything escalated quickly – one storm after the other left our household in complete devastation. I felt the weight not only of the world but the entire universe upon my shoulders. 

For years I have been known to be that bubbly, optimistic, animated girl oozing with exuberance. During these times, however, I could hardly find a reason to smile. I was at the lowest of low. What should have been the brightest days turned into dismissal emptiness. I could not help but question God’s existence in my life. Aside from the insistent anxiety, grief, and pain, the thought of losing a mother all the more added fuel to the fire. How was I able to survive all these? That was also my question. Gradually, when my family and I started to rise from the deepest pits that we were, I perceived the reason how and why we were able to withstand all these.

It is at the darkest moments of your life that you get to realize what happiness really is. The experience surely brought the worst in me but it was also during these times that I attained long-lasting, selfless happiness. I could think of a lot when asked about the happy times of my life - but all of them are fleeting. What is then my realest happiest moment, you ask? It was when my mother’s doctor declared her being cancer-free. 

Reviewed by:

Catindig, Philippe Ellison
Manuel, Keith
Marcelo, Justine Allison

Self-love is not as easy as it sounds. Self-love is not as easy as putting on your pajamas after a long tiring day and just heading straight to bed. For me, self-love is a process. A process wherein you would have to go through different phases and note that skipping a step is never allowed. It is also not a guarantee that this could be done in just one snap. 

My personal experience with self-love is a never-ending rollercoaster ride. There are times when I would be at the top of the ride bursting with joy and there are also times when I would be so down that the rollercoaster itself is in its slow pace and lacks the thrill of it. Honestly speaking, there are more times when my rollercoaster of a life would be in its slow pace because the feeling of being miserable is always present and never leaving. I always feel like I am trying but never being able to reach anything. I am always stuck in a situation wherein I always think “Am I ever going to move on?” or questions like “Will I ever be as happy as I was before?” I realized that the only reason why I am feeling this way is due to the bad experiences and relationships I had with people and through this, I was sure that the people I met made a huge impact on me. That is when I thought of accepting the fact that people come and go. There are some who stays in our life and there are some who would leave after a while – even if we did not want them to. It may be hard accepting it but there is no need to rush. Life is not a competition on who gets to move on first. Never ever think that you do not deserve that cup of coffee in the morning as a reward of getting out of bed or that you do not deserve that 10 hours of sleep after staying up all night doing your research paper. It is good to start with the little things. Always remember to go at your own pace and when you finally learn to move on, let it go. Let go of all the bad memories and just forget every single thing that affected you negatively. It may be easier said than done but have faith that we will get there. The scary part is that there is a huge chance that you would fall back on step one again and that is okay. As I mentioned earlier, we should always go at our own pace and remember that our biggest enemy is ourselves. 

I, myself have not mastered the art of self-love nor am I going to expect to master it soon. There are still some bruises on me that have yet to heal. Sure, I may have experienced a lot of bad and hurtful memories but it is through those memories that shaped who I am today. I also learned in the process that perfection should not be something I should strive for because I will never achieve nor anyone can achieve it. Self-love will always be there for us. It will never hurt and leave us. I just have to find it and even if I fall short, I will just remember to keep fighting because self-love will never be at a fixed point for it is an adventure. 

Reviewed By: Philippe Ellison Catindig, Jonahley Jaucian & Alyssa Malapitan

New Year’s Eve wouldn’t be complete without a New Year’s resolution but how exactly did I come up with my resolution for 2018? It all started on New Year’s Eve. There I was under the night sky, deep in thought, wondering what my 2018 resolution was going to be. It’s not so easy to formulate a resolution when you have to consider being realistic and positive at the same time. My cousins were busy arguing whether to play Halsey or Taylor Swift’s songs on the speaker while I quietly ate on the table. I had decided the prior week before that I was going to start my diet and so my plate only contained a piece of chicken, two california makis and a small cup of fruit salad at the side. It took me two california makis and a cup of fruit salad before I finally figured out what my resolution was going to be. I decided that for 2018, I was going to work on my self-acceptance and self-love. 

Today, February 14, we are celebrating Valentine’s day. However, it isn’t the only thing I am celebrating since today also marks the 45th day of my work towards reaching my goal. With this in mind, I ask myself a few questions. What progress have I made? Did I make any progress at all? Self-love, after all, is no easy task. It is digging into the deepest parts of yourself and being able to face it without hesitation or reservation. It is picking up the broken and brittle pieces of yourself and being able to accept that you’re flawed and imperfect. 

Unfortunately, if these were my basis for determining my progress, I would say that I haven’t made progress since Day 1. Every time I look in the mirror, I call myself fat and ugly. Every time I look at my school papers, I tell myself that my work is unpleasant. Every time I look at others, I tell myself that I can never be as good as them. Clearly, I’m still the same person as I was last year, still the same girl full of insecurities and self-doubt. I still tell myself that I’m not doing enough, that I’m not capable enough, and that I’m not brave enough. These past few days, especially, I find myself at rock bottom due to my dissatisfaction towards my school outputs. At this point, it feels like giving up on self-acceptance and self-love is the easiest solution. I wonder if I’ll even succeed in accomplishing my New Year’s resolution given the current state that I am in. 

As I was contemplating on this the other night, I came unto a realization. If I really want to fulfill my resolution, then I should start somewhere, right? I can start by acknowledging that I can’t change who I am in a blink of an eye or even in a span of 45 days. Besides, this life is no fairy tale. It’s not like I can wish for it and let my fairy godmother do the work for me. It might take weeks, months, or even the whole year for me to work on it. For now, I want to tell myself that it’s okay. We all have a different pace in arriving at our destination anyway. Like they said, Rome wasn’t built in a day. Wow. Am I finally making progress right now? I hope so. 

The path in reaching my goal won’t be an easy one and it would take me one step at a time, one day at a time, to get there. Even so, I have to remember that what’s more essential is that I won’t lose focus of my goal and that I’ll keep trying no matter what. Besides, it’s only Day 45. I still have 320 days of 2018 to make up for it, right? 

Proofread by: 
Danielle Arcegono
Charmaine Firmo 
Phamela Edralin

A Beautiful Struggle 

I have always struggled to love myself. As happy as I may seem, I have always felt conscious or insecure about my physical appearance. Some people may think it is not a big deal but it is for me. I get conscious of every little thing. I cannot go out my house without putting makeup on. I would rather be late than go out with my bare face. Sometimes I dodge the big mirror inside my room, afraid to cringe at the sight of my acne covered face. My biggest insecurity is probably my weight. I am always terrified to look down the scale to see those two or three big scary numbers. My biggest enemy is probably the tape measure. I always have to make sure I am alone whenever I need to measure my waist. Some people tease me about getting fatter, I laugh along but feel like dirt on the inside. It has come to the point that I am scared to love someone because of fear that they would reject me because I am fat and ugly. How can I let other people love me when I cannot even love myself? Self-love is a constant battle for me. 

As depressing as my first paragraph sounds, I try not to let it get to me. I try to think of ways that I can make myself feel more comfortable with the way I look. Even if I have low self-esteem I am still optimistic that one day I will wake up and be satisfied with the way I look. There is no point in moping around if you’re not happy with yourself. It’s okay to cry because of the nasty comments insensitive people say about you but at the end of the day, you can always prove them wrong. Sometimes our biggest critic is ourselves but we have to remember that change starts with us. Even if you don’t get your desired results in an instant, don’t be too hard on yourself. In the long run, looks will fade away and it will only give you superficial happiness. Loving yourself is not as easy as it sounds but we’ll all get there eventually. 

One step closer to accepting and loving who you are is surrounding yourself with people who love you for you. It’s important that you choose friends that will uplift you instead of making yourself feel worse. I am very blessed to have very loving and supportive people around me. They help me appreciate the things that I do not really notice about myself. As much as I notice every negative little thing about me, I realized that I need to give myself a break and notice every beautiful little thing that I often overlook. It is also important to remind yourself that beauty is not just on the outside, although sometimes society makes you feel like it is, it is not.  Real beauty is on the inside, treating people right, spreading positivity, bringing each other up and loving one another will lead you to a happy and healthy life. It may be hard to see that because of the unrealistic image of beauty society is implying but accepting yourself is the first step. Work on yourself and what makes you happy. Again, self-love is not easy but it is a constant, beautiful fight. 

Revised by: Keith Manuel, Justine Marcelo, Philippe Catindig and Jonahley Jaucian

Growing up, I have never really liked being the youngest child in the house.  It has perks, sure, but sometimes it can get quite unfair since we cannot really voice out our opinions and we have to basically put the whole household first before ourselves. However, there is a truth that I had just realised now; being the youngest is not so bad after all. You can enjoy your freedom, really, but at the same time you have people around you who are genuinely concerned with your well-being so you get pieces of advice along the way. Lucky for me, I have those kind of people around me and the bonus point is, they are my sisters. 

Let’s put it this way, I am not the type who would share stories that would show my soft side. What I often share with my friends are stories that ranges from funny ones to the strangest happenings in my life and there are quite a lot of them actually. These ‘soft stories’ I tend to keep to myself. I like to play with it or re-live the experience from time to time but I guess it is about time that I do the opposite with this one, not only to show who I am outside the University but also to show that even if we always see the usual things and get used to it, we never really think about it that much. 

In general, the happiest moment of my life took me back to the time when life was simpler; no rush just pure bliss. And no matter how many times the word “Ate” comes out of my lips, I have never realised how beautiful that word is.

For my mom’s 60th birthday, we decided to have a trip abroad because she wanted to and we figured that it will be a great time to travel as a whole family and spend quality time together. My older sister and I were a bit hesitant at first that this trip would end up a good one since my eldest sister has a little control of her temper and she always manage to pull on each of our last nerves. Miraculously, the exact opposite happened! Of course,  it was not a smooth sail there are still a few bumps but it was not as bad as before. She finally came through and acted as like the eldest child she should be and in that moment, I felt I was back to my younger self. Seeing her with a sense of responsibility gave me peace of mind. 

The four walls of the hotel room in that foreign place took me back to something familiar and close to my heart; our house and its warmth during the time when we were all still young and everything was loud and filled with laughter. When my sisters would trick me into doing something ridiculous and I would gladly do so and when I would whine and call them “Ate” just to annoy them and run away. 

We spoke our native language exaggeratedly and poke fun of our mother and ourselves, especially my eldest sister’s OOTD (Outfit of the Day) which she would proudly strut down the street with, putting fashion over comfort in spite of the cold weather. The trip was filled with sudden realizations about how old we got now but still lacks ‘luba’, a term in our native language which means ‘maturity’, and would laugh it off because it is true.

From time to time, I would glance at my mom to see how she is reacting to how my sisters and I laugh and say jokes to each other; all I got, I’d like to believe, is a smile of contentment and satisfaction and I am more than alright with that. 

Would I wish to repeat a family trip? Yes. No matter how tiring and how far our feet could take us as long as we are complete. 

Proofread by:
Thea Viray
Charmaine Firmo
Phamela Edralin

 

This perception, somehow, I have not thought to apply to myself ever. It’s something that I have never thought to give to myself. The love that I give to people and to the things that I do, is the same love I haven’t given to myself yet. I may have been when I was still whole, but not completely. Not yet. I’m still learning to give the love that I deserve by focusing on myself and trying to know “me” better. 

But if you come to think of it, I may have defined love in a very masochist way. But that’s the point. If I have given that kind of love to a person and passion, how come I can’t give it to myself?  If that’s the kind of love that I know, then I can also do it with myself, right? Because if not, if I can only do and give less than what I have defined if it’s only a two or three of the things I have said than that is not love. It’s just some temporary and fleeting thing that has existed. Something that is incomplete and will never be enough no matter what I do. It’s like an unending search of completeness into the wrong things or people. But no matter what happens, I won’t stop ever. Especially now, that I need it more now. 

Proofread by:
Simon Tamargo
Angelo Braulio
Jazel Anne Mae Homol

            “This is going to be the worst day ever”, I whispered. But little did I know that it's going to be the happiest day of life. I was confined to the bed; completely dependent on the doctors, machine, medications, and the kindness of the people around me. I couldn’t breathe properly. I was injected with too many medications that made my head ache to the point that I couldn’t utter any word. I felt the burning sensation inside of me. I didn’t know what else could I do besides crying. I was so resentful and hated my life. It was a point in my life wherein I started doubting His existence. “Why me?” “What did I do to deserve this?” These are the questions that popped in my head during that time. I almost gave up thinking “Fine, I deserve it. Let me die already.” And as I look at my parents, it makes it more difficult for me. 

             But then again, God still chose to let me live. But I didn’t ask for it. Well, that was my initial reaction. Why? It is because I didn’t want to prolong the agony anymore. Okay. It makes me feel blue whenever I think about it. I’ll stop there. When I got out of the hospital, I was still thinking about my horrifying experience. “Why am I still alive?” “What am I supposed to do next?” I was down. My mindset was God is just letting me live few days or months to spend some time with my family. Yes. I was absolutely pessimistic about the situation. (I hope you understand.) My classmates, friends, and cousins tried visiting me at home but I stayed in my room – accepting no visitors or whatsoever. My parents tried to comfort me and I was too close-minded to listen to them. Then, there comes this one specific day. I woke up in the bed feeling so happy and energetic even though I could still feel the ache inside me. I didn’t know why was I happy though. Did I dream of something good? Anyway, I asked myself. “What the hell am I doing?”, “Why do I keep myself locked up in this room?” It hit me. My mindset has completely changed. I started talking to a guidance counselor. I sent a message to my friends and invited them to come over. I started watching my kdrama marathon. I felt the “I’M BACK” attitude. I watched some videos of people in Youtube on how they coped with hypertension.  Lastly, I went to the Church and totally cried myself out in front of the altar. To cut the long story short, I helped myself.

           It was completely a different start for me. I’ve realized a lot of things from that experience. I became so appreciative of everything. I became more sensitive to what others feel. I spent the next days going to charities. I felt ultimately happy and blessed that I couldn’t ask for more. Then, I knew the answers to all my questions. God allows us to experience problems to direct, inspect, correct, and perfect us. God tested my faith. I failed him at first; but in the end, I got to see a clearer vision of him and his plans. I never felt this way before.

“To trust the process means to know and have faith that there is a divine plan moving through you and your life in any moment.” 

P.S I still suffer from hypertension, but I’m seriously getting better now. Thanks to Him.   

Read by:

Angelica Alinsod
Janna Guinto

PHAMELA EDRALIN
(FROM 'MY ARTISTIC GRID') 

I always like to think that using metaphors is a good way to discover oneself and likewise make it known to others. Perhaps because in doing so, one may find the courage and determination to probe on the ways that oneself may be inextricably linked to the object that he would like to be identified with thus paving the way for one’s self-discovery.  With that being said, I would like to take this opportunity to liken myself to a dish, in hopes that I would finish this essay with a more profound knowledge on certain parts of who and what I am, as a person.

 

After giving much thought into what dish I would like to see myself as, I arrived at the realization that comparing myself with a Chinese cuisine that I have always loved and craved for would be the best way to go. Hence, I would endeavor to liken myself to Har (shrimp) Gow (dumpling) which, in its Anglicized form would also be more popularly known as Hacao.  And there were two major factors at work which helped me arrive at such decision.

 

First, because in spite of its growing popularity among Chinese food fanatics, Hacao remains to be one of the most underrated dumplings in the international culinary scene. In addition, even though it is a dish that is always readily available on the menu, it still has an element of exclusivity especially among people whose physiologies never allow them to eat shrimp or seafood of any sort. And I would like to perceive such ‘seafood allergy’ as a defense mechanism on my behalf, so that people whose personalities do not become my cup of tea in the long run or those whose attitudes will apparently not jive well with mine would already be filtered and steer cleared off so as to avoid future conflicts and drama.

 

Second, because of the numbers of complexities and particularities involved in the preparation of the dish itself. Truthfully, the task of creating and recreating a Hacao is actually a very daunting and meticulous one, so much so that it was said to be the ‘challenge dish’ upon which the skill of a dim sum chef is always scrutinized. For example, the pleats themselves would have to be of a  certain number and of a uniform width; and, the wrapper would also have to be skinny and translucent yet strong enough to not open or break during handling via chopsticks. It also shouldn’t stick to the basket in which it is cooked and the shrimp meat itself should also be cooked perfectly – not too much yet not too raw. Lastly, there should also be a generous amount of shrimp in the wrapper itself yet the amount should also be appropriate so that each Hacao can be eaten in a single bite.

 

This characteristic of the dish is the one that speaks to me on a very deep, if not, existential level, because it is also the characteristic of the Hacao that focuses on the deceivingly easy and nonchalant manner of transforming grams and grams of marinated shrimp into a solid roll of dough and ultimately into a transparent, and delicious cuisine that was impeccably and lovingly made by a chef with very delicate yet precise hands. And I could also very much relate this characteristic as to how God, my Father, and essentially my Creator, takes his time in using his high-quality ingredients and seasoning me with them, even though some, He puts in less than others and others, He puts more generously in order to create just the right amount of mixture for the shrimp that he himself fished as well. Also, with God, no preservatives are added, no artificial seasonings, all organic and all good for those whom he created the dish for.

 

However, what presumably would be the best and most striking thing about this dish would be how God had put in a whole lot of His secret recipe (which I would like to think is ‘love’) not only on the marinated shrimp itself but on the several other processes that He had the dish undergo, in order to come out and taste just how He liked it.

Utmost appreciation to my fam,

@Thea Viray
@Danielle Arcegono
@Charmaine Firmo

hope we can all go out for some Hacao soon :*

Love is such a beautiful thing; a seed implanted in our heart, growing through sprinkles of happiness day by day. Love is a cycle; it is shared, received, and is given back again. In each day that we live, we see the existence of love in every corner that there may be.

Love is in the smile of a stranger,

Love is in the touch of the hand of a mother,

Love… is in the caring of one another,

Love… is in the act of loving oneself for the better.

There are different types of love in this world which only the self knows. It is the kind of love where you choose to let go of people who can do no good to you; the kind of love where you just stop putting other’s happiness first and you prioritize yours, too.

It is a phase, a process, a reach for change... It is the kind of love where you try to fix oneself, after shattering into broken pieces for giving too much of what you had, leaving just a love so tad.

This kind of love is what can fix you, a love found in yourself and is for the self.

This love is what we call ‘Self-love.' 

 

March 9, 2014. I clearly remember the date because it was my friend's birthday. When we all went back home, as far as I can remember, it was about past 1 am. Minutes passed, right when we were about to sleep, we suddenly heard strong thuds from the door. My Mom got annoyed so she opened it. We saw people running and shouting “Sunog! Sunog! Sunog! (Fire! Fire! Fire!)” About a hundred times to inform everybody in the neighborhood about what's happening. 

By the time we were informed, the fire was already big. We were all in shock so everybody’s just panicking, crying, trying to save the things we still can, and bringing it to a place far from the fire. My parents kept telling us to hurry and run from the house and to not go back to gather other things because the fire was rapidly increasing up to our residence. My siblings were crying like crazy back then and so was I. I didn’t know what to do, I was with them, and I was scared as hell because my parents were left back in our house trying to save some of our things. I was crying and thinking, “What now? What would happen to us now? What if my parents couldn’t make it?” My mind was full of sudden life questions at that moment. All I could see was the huge fire and would even feel the heat meters away. 

God knows how grateful I was when my parents came back in good shape. But as I saw my Mama crying, it broke my heart. I cried even harder. I saw my Papa’s face in grief. I felt miserable. I was just so messed up that day, I was crying my eyes out, and my heart felt like it was being torn into pieces, and felt like any time I’d passed out. I couldn’t bear to see my parents in such sad faces. 

It was then in that moment when I told myself that I had to work hard, harder than I should. It was then where I realized the responsibilities of being the eldest daughter. It was then in that moment where I manned up, and felt that I should now be mature and think more like an adult. It was then when I finally realized that I was really the breadwinner of the family, that I will be the one who will bring up my family from this disaster. It was then where I promised to my Mama and Papa that I would help them start a new chapter in our life by reviving our house. All the memories, the appliances, furniture, literally everything that my Papa bought from working blood and sweat abroad suddenly became ashes. Devastatingly, nothing left. 

From that day up until now, even if the process is so damn hard, I’m still trying to keep up with that promise because I know I need to. 
-
Edited by:
Patricia Guillarte
Justine Marcelo
Philippe Catindig

Kei Gonzaga

The happiest day of my life started when my father woke me up at 1 am in the morning. 

He patted my arm and when I didn’t respond, he dragged my ass to the bathroom, ordering me, “magbihis ka na! aalis na tayo!” (“Dress up! We’re going to go!”)

I really hate these kinds of wake-up calls. For one, it’s rude and annoying. And I just generally hate mornings. It’s the time when I can’t really think straight-the world is the worst place to live in. A pathetic groan escaped my lips, begging for a few more minutes. My father just replied a sarcastic scoff. 

The world still looked like a dizzying spell. Black blotches dance behind my eyelids, triggering wave after wave of wild nausea. A dry heave came up, enveloping my mouth with the taste of spoiled milk. I reflexively buried my face in the sink, anticipating how my stomach would dispose its gastric juice butters. 

“Why the fu-“I bit the cuss back and tried again, “bakit ang aga naman taaay?! Wala pa atang isang oras tulog ko eh!” (“Why did you wake me up so early dad?! I only slept  for an hour!”)

“Ano ka ba Kei! Di tayo hihintayin ng eroplano!” (“Stop complaining Kei! The airplane won’t wait for us!”)

“Ano?!” (“What?!”)

“Basta bilisan mo na! Dadating na yung taxi!” (“Just, hurry up! The taxi will arrive shortly!”)

It took me a while to understand what was happening. I can’t remember much. One thing that I can assure though- my thoughts are black as void and incoherent as death. I remember a dramatic flashback that almost made me puke. And for some reason I thought about being drunk even though I’ve never been drunk. But then I remember being told again and again in the past few days being told that I can be drunk. 

“Eighteen.” I said out loud with no emotion. 

But then and there every hair on my arms rose up, a midnight breeze flew inside the bathroom (I’m pretty sure that was just my imagination), slapping me back to reality. ‘Oh… that’s right. I just turned eighteen.’ 

And that I, finally (as an 18^th birthday gift), am going to the place I always wanted to go-Japan. 

Checked by: Abbey Sabado, Dana Cacha and Michiko Sugiyama

They say that money cannot buy happiness but it can actually buy you food to eat. I think that is happiness too, right? Honestly, knowing the writing prompt for today makes me hungry and crave for a snack at this moment. It would take a decade and a half if you would ask what my favorite food is because I cannot really choose one. Foods are blessings in disguise. Being a food enthusiast, I have this standard of rating how savory a certain dish is because of my grandmother who usually cooks for us every day. She used to have a sari-sari store in Caloocan that is why she is the master of our kitchen until now. I remember her struggle of cooking different dishes to be their paninda every morning while taking good care of us. 

Indeed, it really takes a lot of hard work, dedication, and skills to produce a well-cooked as well as delicious viand to eat. I do not know why I mentioned these things but I just want to say that she cooks the best Pinakbet in our compound. So if you would ask me again this time, I would prefer to be a Pinakbet, her own version of Pinakbet. This dish consists of different vegetables, shrimp paste, and pork that somehow symbolize the different personalities that I have as an individual. An emotional and carefree person combined. Sometimes, I am too jolly especially when I have the chance to share different stories and experiences to a person who is very much willing to listen as well like achieving the right flavor and tenderness of the pork that sticks to one’s mouth. There are times that I am the grumpiest person that one would encounter because of some personal reasons like realizing that the sauce is too salty for some. Despite of these personalities, I am still thankful to have those people who chose to stay with me and still add flavor (like the shrimp paste) to my life when things seem so hard for me. 

I love how these ingredients complement each other although they taste differently. One would easily notice how colorful it is when served and I think that the best feature of this dish. Upon eating, one will not even notice the cooking process like how long it takes to chop the pork, slice the different vegetables, and measure the right amount of shrimp paste because the focus would be the dish itself. Life is like cooking the aforementioned dish; it takes a lot of effort and patience to cook like deciding one’s plan in life. We just need to explore and experiment for us to discover things, our own kind of flavor. 

Reviewed by:
Philippe Ellison Catindig
Alyssa Marie Malapitan
Eliza Marie Tarlac 

By Abigail Sabado

Chop chop, darling! 

C’mon, we don’t have all day. Get up and start walking down the road of ‘love’. What’s that? Oh. You saw a flowery gate and sparkling rivers down the corner? That’s not our destination- but what? It has ‘LOVE’ written on it? Bah! Foolishness! The way to ‘true love’ is not that way. You are disillusioned, I must enlighten you. Come, the road is this way. 

Chop chop, darling! 

Now, be careful on walking down this road. It’s dark but fret not darling, there are lights! Tiles will light up and will lead you to where your destination is. The red tiles you see over there? They’re made of lava. They cause you pain! They make you feel the heat and it burns. Oh, it burns so bad. Then we have the blue tiles over here, they cause you frostbite. If I were you, I’d steer clear from these tiles. It’ll make you numb then they turn into ice and they’d break in the long run. Scary, isn’t it? Lost a leg when I stepped on one, bit of an inconvenience really.  

Chop chop, darlingl

We still have a long way but don’t worry, I’m still with you! Later, we’ll pass by yellow tiles in a few minutes. These tiles make you feel happy for a few moments, although I must say, they’re more delusions than- what do they call it? Ah yes, happiness. Oh oh oh, see that green tile? They’re the worst.  Green tiles are infested with insects, all kinds- centipedes, bees, beetles, wasps, flies. They’ll cling to you all the way, and their bites sting, honestly.  The pink tiles, they’re the best tiles. You can rest on them for a while! However, they disappear a bit too quickly to anyone’s liking because those tiles always change their color, they’re kind of emotional. Poor tiles, they try their best to be pink but the other tiles easy infect them. 

Chop chop, darling!

We’re approaching a river soon- what? You’re tired of this trek? We aren’t even half-way to reach the end darling! There’s no use in finding any easy path. There’s no easy path to ‘Love’! You create your own path to ‘Love’. It’s either you just blindly walk on it or use the lights to guide you. What’s the point of this trek? Darling, I should ask you that. You started this entire thing! 

Chop chop, darli-

What are you still sitting around for? Oh, you’re asking what is the end of this road? My dear, it’s a mirror!  A mirror is not ‘Love’? Just because you see yourself within it? What nonsense, my dear. The mirror is everything. The end road of this adventure is acquiring ‘Love’! The road you’re taking? The scars you’ve earned just by stepping on those tiles? They’re your trophies of surviving this hellish road! It would be impossible to finish this road without seeing the mirror. They reflect adventures you’ve taken. The mirror is a reflection of yourself. You’ve come so far, I hope, darling, that you continue down this road. You’ll never regret it.

Chop chop, darling!

Congratulations! You’ve finally realized that this road is about the Self! The road into loving the Self is never easy: you’ll encounter doubts, mistakes, and continuous self-hate but running against those troublesome tiles over and over and over again. However, breaking those tiles- you’ll meet the end, and it is ‘Love’. Now, my darling, are you ready to get your feet back on the ground and start loving yourself? I assure you, every step will be worth it. You can stray from this road but the road will always be there waiting for you.

Reviewed by: Dana Cacha, Keirenza Gonzaga, Michiko Sugiyama, Justine Joy del Puerto

Whenever I think of miso soup, I think of home, and whenever I think of home, I think of myself, and by this I mean the version of myself that I am most comfortable with. When I am home, I do not feel the burden to be anybody else but me, no matter how simple and unimpressive. With this contemplation, I feel that in another life, I would have been a bowl of miso soup. Now, in no way am I even close to being Japanese; however, my parents raised me with such a distinct and explorative palette towards Asian cuisine, so I am akin to these kinds of tastes. 

 

I chose miso soup as who I am because it is so delicate but memorable. It is so humble and it cannot lie. It is a dish that cannot bend itself to be something else because it expresses itself unadulteratedly; so different from who I am, which is why it is my delight to even try to compare it to myself. Many nights coming home from school, my muscles aching, my heart longing for rest, I would find myself face to face with a bowl of miso soup my Mom made and the sight of it reduces me to a calm surrender.  When I partake of it, the warmth spreads to my chest, my stomach, my very soul. It is that healing for me. And I could only wish to be miso soup. My dream in life right now is to be like miso soup; unpretentious, comforting, indelible to the weary, and so much like being at home. 

Miso soup or “misoshiru” in Japanese (or similarly, Doenjang-guk in Korean, which is the darker, earthier soybean soup I prefer when life is harder than usual) is a dish made with ceremony. When I was young, I read that each hard ingredient symbolized the seasons, and the thought of carefully choosing what to incorporate in the soup and customizing it according to culture and personal preference is so amazing to me. My family and I once dined in a DIY restaurant, the kind where they ask you to cook your own food. There I realized that if who I am was to be translated into soup form, I would be miso soup with four kinds of mushrooms, tofu, scallions, blood rice cakes, and too much shell food. It was endearing because the soup was as quirky as how I thought myself to be. My brother poked fun at my choice and I could only roll my eyes at him, but it is only now in reflection do I realize that as much as I dislike myself, I cannot help but be me; like pouring out soup from a pot; big, odd chunks,  miso granules, and all, invariably unsorted and hopelessly, unrelentingly me .  

Miso might not be for many people who prefer strong flavors, but it's still so wonderful in its own peaceful way that I cannot help but sing this ode. I do not really know if I have absolutely achieved a miso soup kind of personality. Someone who diligently considers what ideas to believe in, constructs to belong to, and ingredients to put into one’s self. Someone who does not need to be loud and grandiose to be noticed, to begin something, to lead the supper. Someone so reassured of themselves that no matter where they go, they are unmoved, un-bothered by the competition of tastes, and so kind; kind enough to be like a hug on a cold evening, kind enough to leave a clean aftertaste when the meal is done. Every day, I am working hard to be the best bowl of miso soup that I can be. I hope this appetizer be the culmination of the good person I wish to become, so the next time, even if it is just me, no tempura or katsudon or sushi to follow, even if it's just me in someone's presence, I will be satisfying enough. 

 

The moment my life did a complete 360 was not about me.

“Life begins with birth and ends with death. All that’s in between can be deemed irrelevant, to be honest. We were born to die.” This pessimistic statement has been my motto in life for as long as I can remember. Especially after the death of my grandmother, I’ve lost all hope in the beauty of life and spent every day waiting for my eventual death. In all cynicism, I had no motivation to live. Gratefully, that perception changed when something unforeseen happened in our family.

It was an ordinary day, I remember so vividly, and I just got home from school. It was boring, really. The good part of the story, however, begins when my mom texted me from work and asked me to help my dad in preparing the table. As she’s decided to have dinner at our rooftop together with the whole family (my aunt, uncle, and cousin included). I asked her why. I realized there was nothing special about today, so why the fuss? She just answered me with a vague “We’re facetiming your cousins.”

Still confused, I went on with the serving of the food. Even my aunt, my mother’s sister, had no idea why we were all having a meal together. When everything was all set up, we started eating – nothing out of the ordinary. In the middle of the meal, my mom brought out our iPad and video called her other sister who was residing in the US. She was also surprised that we were all having a meal together; it was nobody’s birthday anyway. She just dismissed it for us bonding over a meal. At the end of dinner, my mom gathered us around the table. I was starting to get worried. Did somebody die? Did she get fired at work? What in the world was happening?!

My countless questions were answered when she opened her mouth, “Buntis si Alexa (Alexa is pregnant).”

I was in shock. Not just me, we all were. My father who was trying to remove a piece of meat stuck between his teeth, my brother who was busy still eating, my cousins who were preparing for their day through the screen, my uncle who was having a smoke at a corner, my aunt who was starting to gather the used plates, even my 5-year-old cousin who was busy playing with her Baby Alive doll were all surprised.

It was a long night. There were tears, there was anger, and there was a lot of confusion. It never occurred to me that this night would be all about my older sister. Eventually, we learned to accept the fact.

Birth and death in the family have changed a lot about me. Fast forward to six months later (my sister was three months pregnant when she decided to let us all in on the secret), seeing my little nephew for the first time made me change my view on life. He was one of the reasons why I’m trying to live my best years now. I’ve been witnessing how messed up the world is, but I never really do anything to change it. With my nephew’s arrival, my negative perspective completely vanished.  He’s the reason I have so much that I’m fighting for – equality, human rights, violence against women, corruption, poverty, etc. I even want to be a lawyer now because of him. It is because of this little human, that I wanted life to be better for everyone. It is because of him that I look forward to the future, and that I want to make sure it’ll be a better one than what we have now. He has restored my will to live and frankly, I couldn’t be more grateful.

The moment my life did a complete 360 was not about me. It was about my nephew. Life begins with birth and ends with death. All that’s in between is the significant moments. We were born to live.

 
Proofread by:

Jonahley M. Jaucian

Pauline Joy M. Paulino

Eliza Marie B. Tarlac

They say that the happiest moments in life occur when you hit a certain age after living for so long. The so-called golden time where all you have to do is to harvest the fruits of your labor and lay down on the bed of success. But as with all the other things in life, it’s different for everyone, and happy moments are not always going to be success stories. At times, it could just be as simple as being with a family whose companionship you rarely experience. 

The only time I could feel that I’m a part of a whole family was when I was in Japan for vacation. I have a mom and a dad I could see once I open my eyes in the morning. Mama would nag and force me to wake up early, and she would always ask me to clean or fold the clothes; sometimes even to take care of her garden even though its winter. Papa would just sit there at the table in the morning, watching as he sips Miso soup and eats grilled mackerel with chopsticks, his usual got-to breakfast. Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like he tends to just drink in the moment and avoid talking. He would leave by 6AM and return by 2AM, when everyone’s already asleep. I would only get to watch him eat in the morning, but even then, I am already very thankful for such a short amount of time I get to be with him. 

Wednesdays are my favorite. It’s my papa’s day-off, which means he could take us to a nearby park. He’s too tired from work so I prefer going to nice and quiet places with him. A day just sitting under a shade, munching on sandwiches, and drinking cold mugi-cha (Barley tea) is my ideal date with him. Contrary to that kind of peacefulness, mama would take us to big shopping districts like Shibuya and Harajuku, eat at fancy cafes, and just scream our hearts out at karaoke boxes. As an introvert who doesn’t like too much social interaction, papa would become my relief after a long day with mama .It’s basically the Yin Yang lifestyle of my mama and papa at work. 

However in the midst of happiness, rose-colored vision induces a drunken feeling. There’s disregard for the future things to come because I get too caught up in the moment. I was by my stay in my parent’s home that the fact that I would eventually have to go back to the Philippines to study always manages to slap me by surprise even though it’s so obvious. I was too happy I had forgotten about other things. 

Nevertheless, those sweet golden times in Japan with my parents have become my guiding vision towards the future. The emptiness of not having your parents around have become my motivation to study hard and graduate on time, so I could be with them as soon as possible. Small doses of golden happiness are enough to get you addicted in staying alive.

Deepest Thanks to:

-Dana Cacha

-Abigail Sabado

-Keirenza Gonzaga

The best part about burgers is that, they are convenient. It doesn’t matter if you’re at home, at school, at work, or at the jeep, you can eat them practically anywhere (even in your dreams).  You don’t have to worry about being hungry and dealing with your tasks at the same time. Your burger will always be there for you.

Six years ago, my spiritual father, Rev. Fr. Willy Atienza, OFM Cap., gave me an important life assignment. He asked me to be a “brother to all” from that day on. To carry out this mission, I needed one essential characteristic – disponibility. Disponibility is a word rarely found in dictionaries. Being disponible is being available for anyone in need no matter who s/he may be or for any assigned task no matter how difficult it may be. Being disponible is just like being a burger. You are someone people could count on wherever they go and whatever they do. 

The least yet greatest thing I could do to fulfill this mission is to pray ceaselessly. Praying isn’t just making the sign of the cross, and uttering words to the Lord. Prayer can be opening doors for people at the library, giving food to the homeless, helping a lost stranger with directions, listening to a friend pouring his or her heart out, hugging your parents, and many more. When we do good to one another, we pray.  

Proofread by: 
Kate Alamag
Rebecca Antolin 
Jazel Homol

                Rice is the heart of all Filipino homes and it is definitely not a Filipino household without rice. Whatever side dish you have—beef, pork, chicken, fish, vegetables, and even salt—  rice perfectly goes along with the said side dishes since rice can be cooked in different ways as well. Eating outside, extra rice will always be our guilty pleasure and what’s better than extra rice? Unlimited rice, of course!

If I were to wake up one day as a single grain or palay, I will think of it as an exciting and fulfilling adventure. My master or the farmer will take good care of me; nurture me as I grow until I am ready to be harvested. Eventually, he has to let me go and I will be part of a huge sack together with other grains, saying casual hellos and maybe talk about the weather. After which I will end up in a grocery or a market place where let's say a mother of five will buy a kilo or so for supper. I am now a bigas inside a plastic bag being transported to a home. Mother will then wash me thoroughly since I’ve been through numerous processes and places now in order to cleanse me and free me from dirt. She will also water me with the exact amount because she does not want me to be too malata or buhaghag as I am slowly boiled to perfection to be that fine, white rice. I am now a steaming and delicious kanin or rice that the family inside a barong-barong in the slums will enjoy. Father and the other children just arrived and they are ready for supper. Mother places me in the table together with a broth extracted from the same bones they had for lunch and a can of sardines that will try to feed seven mouths. The family is now enjoying supper and I am happy to watch them fill themselves. Bunso or the youngest in the family is also enjoying am or rice water that mother prepared for him since father cannot buy formulated milk.  The next morning, I am now a bahaw or the left-over rice inside the pot that will eventually be transformed to sinangag for the family to eat for breakfast. I am now with a much darker shade and crispier than ever. One of the siblings felt unwell and so mother made some lugaw or porridge that she can eat to make her feel a little better. For lunch, the same pot will be reheated and I will finally face my final stage as a tutong—burnt and dark—and will eventually be disposed to the dogs outside or be delivered as kanin-baboy or hog wash and I feel happier more than ever. 

               You see, rice is a basic need in a household but it is unfortunate how most family cannot afford it. If I were to be rice, I want to make every stomach full, healthy, and satisfied until the last grain of rice in their plate and not just an excess mumo. Moreover, the varieties of rice also reflect my personalities depending on my mood or the situation. I can be as soft and pure as a kanin but I can be as rough or bitter like tutong. Most of my friends say that I also know how to socialize well, just like how rice complements different viands. All the processes from being a grain to rice reflects our life and how we aim to be refined that will serve more than ourselves but others of greater purpose. Because what is more fulfilling than making other people happy and literally full? And so the next time you eat in a karinderya, think twice if you really want that extra rice. 

 
Reviewed by: 
Guinto, Janna
Marcelo, Justine Allison
Viray, Thea Mari