UNEDITED SAMPLE LITERARY ARTICLE
By Ma. Beatrice Camille Valencia Gaviola
IV-Enrico Fermi
You always have to learn the hard way, don’t you think so? Yeah, it’ll hurt [maybe] more than you thought it would. But in the end it will be for your benefit. You’ll learn something new through your own eyes; through your own experience. I’m not saying that getting hurt is a good thing, although sometimes, it is the only way we’ll really accept the truths and facts of life. It’s like losing a person, or maybe two persons. You never really realize they’re there, because they are by your side, at your every beckoned call. Once they are gone, it would be like a part of your life broke off and went with them, and that void never gets filled again.
Everyone gets hurt. We all know that. We all experience hardships in life, some more frequently than others. But we all still live; we still continue to push through. In my fifteen long years of existence, I’ve experienced gaining friends and losing them, leaving the school which I had loved and grown so accustomed to, scrimping ‘cause I spent a little too much, and sat idly and watched as our family slowly fell apart. Now I don’t blame anyone for any of these occurences, because I know I’m not supposed to.
Sometimes – no, most of the time – we want to give up. Give up on the problems, on ourselves, on life; but every once in a while, someone or something gives us hope to carry on. My mom always told me to be strong, though we were never really that open with each other. This was what I always tried to do. Be strong. Not only for her, but also for myself. For quite a while now, I’ve been okay with my situation in life. As most others would, I sometimes think deeply, and wish that things were better than they are, even though I know this is far from possible.
We all have to learn that life is not governed by justice. Sometimes, things, as unfair as they may seem, happen. We just need to accept them, and the cold hard truth that life is. It also helps to have a friend beside you, listening to you and helping you the whole way. We need to realize that these are God’s tests. He wouldn’t give us something we wouldn’t be able to handle, so don’t give up. Hold on.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
UNTITLED
UNEDITED SAMPLE LITERARY ARTICLE
By Karenina Isabel Apilado Lampa
IV-Micahel Faraday
I met him back then, when he had been so young. In the instant that I first set my eyes on him, I already knew. He would have a special place in my heart.
The day he arrived, we were all ecstatic. It was always nice for someone new to enter the family. But when we tried to approach him, the aura he emitted was not even close to friendly. He bared his fangs at us, and immediately developed a dislike for us. And in our whole life, my siblings and I have always grown accustomed to dogs that were friendly. Hence the term, 'A Man's Bestfriend', right? So the reception that this new Japanese Spitz offered us didn't really appeal to us.
We decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was already late when he came, so we attributed the crankiness to the time. Our parents laughed at us and reminded us that dogs do not work much like humans do. They were merely creatures who had paws instead of hands, and didn't have the necessity to wear underwear and clothes. But just before we returned to our room, I heard our grandfather calling out to the new dog. "Ritchie! Come here!", he had said. The Japanese Spitz wagged its tail eagerly and bounded towards my grandfather. I couldn't help but smile as I closed the door behind me. His name kept resounding in my head. But at that time, I didn't know that Ritchie, the Japanese Spitz, would play an important role in our life....in my life.
The next morning, my siblings and I decided to pay Ritchie another visit. We entered our grandparents' room and looked around. Both of the family dogs were there. Poochi, our Shih Tzu, immediately woke up from his stupor and began to climb our legs, desperately trying to lick us. After giving him a pat, I turned towards the newcomer. To my surprise, I found him wagging his white tail. And, despite his attitude the night before, he approached us in a different manner. Following Poochi's lead, he bounded up our legs happily. That day, it was the start of a new friendship.
However, as the time passed, a problem came to be evident. There were two house dogs, Poochi and Ritchie. And reality struck us when we noticed that we haven't been dividing our attention equally between both dogs. We've spent quite a few years with Poochi, so the tendency was that we spent more time with Ritchie.
The favoritism could not even be hidden. Poochi had to sleep inside his cage, while Ritchie was free to roam around the veranda in our grandparents' room for his convenience.
I will not be a hypocrite and say that I tried to be fair to both of them. I honestly favored Ritchie more, and I really don't know why, up until now. My siblings noticed that lack of attention that we have been giving Poochi. They decided that we should spend a little more time with him. I turned to look at them both, and turned away. I couldn't leave Ritchie alone. I just couldn't. It was a selfish, foolish, biased move...but I couldn't move away.
So as my siblings spent more time with Poochi, I noticed the change that occurred in Ritchie. He became more and more uncontrollable. My grandmother couldn't take all the destruction their veranda has been experiencing due to Ritchie's constant bursts of energy. They transferred him to the terrace where Poochi also resided in. I knew that it was only fair that this happened, but I couldn't be happy. This meant change, and for me, change was not always a good thing.
Ironically, Ritchie's change of habitat became a reason for me to actually stop and think about the right thing, and I started spending time with Poochi more. I made up for the time that I had spent away from him, apologizing at the same time. Ritchie, however, became more and more uncontrollable. He would run around and around, and it eventually annoyed the people in the house. So the day when they put a leash on him and chained him to one of the grills in our terrace, it depressed him.
I knew it would teach him a lesson, but if only I had known that something bad would happen, I would have set him free.
After a few weeks, we noticed the big change in Ritchie's mood. He wasn't as energetic as before. Instead, he would stay in his corner of the cage and brood. Whenever we opened the doors to our house, it would only be Poochi who would run toward us. Ritchie would just stay there, a different look in his brown eyes. I started to worry for him. My sister assured me, however, that it was just a phase."Dogs have phases?” I asked. She smiled and nodded. I turned away from Ritchie again.
We thought that in time, he would return to his original self again. But, ironically, he started to emit strange sounds during one night. It sounded like a cry of agony, and as my siblings and I went to check on him, we noticed his strange position inside the cage. He was twisted in an odd sort of way, and putting it together with his cries of pain, we knew something was wrong. We just knew it.
The following morning, we asked our parents to send him to the veterinarian. They took one look at him and agreed. We tried to get him out of his cage, but as we tried to reach out to him, he would bark at us and try to bite us. We called our grandfather for help, knowing that it had been him who Ritchie had first developed a liking to. But even with him, Ritchie acted cold. So our grandfather titled the cage and Ritchie slid out of it. As soon as he was out, he did nothing but lay sprawled on the ground. The sight was enough to make me cry, but I didn't. I assured myself that things would end up fine.
That day, they brought him to the vet. My siblings wanted to turn their attention away from worrying, so they played with Poochi instead. I couldn't stop pacing back and forth. I didn't have enough reassurance in me to be happy with them. I wanted to know what was happening to him at that time, and I hated the fact that I had stayed in the house. I couldn't push aside the feeling in me that Ritchie lying on the ground helplessly would be the last scene I could picture him in. I didn't want to cry. Not yet. Crying meant I was accepting the fact that he'd be gone. I didn't want to let the tears fall down.
When the sound of the car's horn reached our ears, all of us went to meet them. But when my mother came out, she had a sad look plastered on her face. I didn't have to listen to her next words to know what had happened. "He didn't make it...He died in the car, just as we reached the vet."
It all fell down in an instant. If I had known that he would be gone from me...If I had known that the last time I patted him would have been the last time...If I had known that the last time he stared up at us with his warm brown eyes would be the look we'd always remember...I would never have turned away from him. I cried for him. I loved him, and I wasn't prepared to say goodbye. I cried for so long, locking myself up and not wanting to talk to anyone about it. Everything came back to me. The first time he entered the house...the first time he licked our faces...the first time he and Poochi had a fight...everything.
But horror struck me as I tried to remember what he looked like. The harder I tried to remember, the easier it faded. I desperately wanted to remember how he looked like, and so I dug around for his Baby Book. When I opened it, I stared at it blankly. All hope was lost. We didn't even have a picture of him. He was gone from me...forever.
I didn't even have the chance to say goodbye...
It took me a few days to recover. And as soon as I felt better, my mom confronted me. She told me that I had to be brave. I looked down and cried silently. I told her that I didn't want him to leave me. My mom put her arm around me. Her next words surprised me more than anything else.
"It may be because of the broken ribs that Ritchie died, but believe me, it may have been because of another reason. A more noble reason. Legend says that when a pet dies, it does so to save its owner."
I stopped crying and gave her a questioning look.
"Do you remember when your sister had high fever, just a few weeks before? It may have been deadly. All the signs of Dengue were there, and we were starting to prepare ourselves. If it had been dengue, that would've been her third time. And honestly, not many people even survive their first experience with Dengue. She would have been very lucky to survive it again."
She smiled at me before she continued.
"And then, it was gone. The rashes , the high fever. And you know, Kina, I think Ritchie died to save your sister. It was a very noble thing that he did, Kina. Be proud of him."
Up until now, I still believe in what my mother had told me. And I cannot thank Ritchie enough for it. He gave up his own life to save my sister, and I will never forget it.
Every year, when June 15 arrives,
I know that two important friends in my life share that day. My best friend in elementary celebrates her birthday on that very day.
And it was during the morning of June 15, that my Ritchie heroically gave up his life, in place of someone very important to me.
By Karenina Isabel Apilado Lampa
IV-Micahel Faraday
I met him back then, when he had been so young. In the instant that I first set my eyes on him, I already knew. He would have a special place in my heart.
The day he arrived, we were all ecstatic. It was always nice for someone new to enter the family. But when we tried to approach him, the aura he emitted was not even close to friendly. He bared his fangs at us, and immediately developed a dislike for us. And in our whole life, my siblings and I have always grown accustomed to dogs that were friendly. Hence the term, 'A Man's Bestfriend', right? So the reception that this new Japanese Spitz offered us didn't really appeal to us.
We decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was already late when he came, so we attributed the crankiness to the time. Our parents laughed at us and reminded us that dogs do not work much like humans do. They were merely creatures who had paws instead of hands, and didn't have the necessity to wear underwear and clothes. But just before we returned to our room, I heard our grandfather calling out to the new dog. "Ritchie! Come here!", he had said. The Japanese Spitz wagged its tail eagerly and bounded towards my grandfather. I couldn't help but smile as I closed the door behind me. His name kept resounding in my head. But at that time, I didn't know that Ritchie, the Japanese Spitz, would play an important role in our life....in my life.
The next morning, my siblings and I decided to pay Ritchie another visit. We entered our grandparents' room and looked around. Both of the family dogs were there. Poochi, our Shih Tzu, immediately woke up from his stupor and began to climb our legs, desperately trying to lick us. After giving him a pat, I turned towards the newcomer. To my surprise, I found him wagging his white tail. And, despite his attitude the night before, he approached us in a different manner. Following Poochi's lead, he bounded up our legs happily. That day, it was the start of a new friendship.
However, as the time passed, a problem came to be evident. There were two house dogs, Poochi and Ritchie. And reality struck us when we noticed that we haven't been dividing our attention equally between both dogs. We've spent quite a few years with Poochi, so the tendency was that we spent more time with Ritchie.
The favoritism could not even be hidden. Poochi had to sleep inside his cage, while Ritchie was free to roam around the veranda in our grandparents' room for his convenience.
I will not be a hypocrite and say that I tried to be fair to both of them. I honestly favored Ritchie more, and I really don't know why, up until now. My siblings noticed that lack of attention that we have been giving Poochi. They decided that we should spend a little more time with him. I turned to look at them both, and turned away. I couldn't leave Ritchie alone. I just couldn't. It was a selfish, foolish, biased move...but I couldn't move away.
So as my siblings spent more time with Poochi, I noticed the change that occurred in Ritchie. He became more and more uncontrollable. My grandmother couldn't take all the destruction their veranda has been experiencing due to Ritchie's constant bursts of energy. They transferred him to the terrace where Poochi also resided in. I knew that it was only fair that this happened, but I couldn't be happy. This meant change, and for me, change was not always a good thing.
Ironically, Ritchie's change of habitat became a reason for me to actually stop and think about the right thing, and I started spending time with Poochi more. I made up for the time that I had spent away from him, apologizing at the same time. Ritchie, however, became more and more uncontrollable. He would run around and around, and it eventually annoyed the people in the house. So the day when they put a leash on him and chained him to one of the grills in our terrace, it depressed him.
I knew it would teach him a lesson, but if only I had known that something bad would happen, I would have set him free.
After a few weeks, we noticed the big change in Ritchie's mood. He wasn't as energetic as before. Instead, he would stay in his corner of the cage and brood. Whenever we opened the doors to our house, it would only be Poochi who would run toward us. Ritchie would just stay there, a different look in his brown eyes. I started to worry for him. My sister assured me, however, that it was just a phase."Dogs have phases?” I asked. She smiled and nodded. I turned away from Ritchie again.
We thought that in time, he would return to his original self again. But, ironically, he started to emit strange sounds during one night. It sounded like a cry of agony, and as my siblings and I went to check on him, we noticed his strange position inside the cage. He was twisted in an odd sort of way, and putting it together with his cries of pain, we knew something was wrong. We just knew it.
The following morning, we asked our parents to send him to the veterinarian. They took one look at him and agreed. We tried to get him out of his cage, but as we tried to reach out to him, he would bark at us and try to bite us. We called our grandfather for help, knowing that it had been him who Ritchie had first developed a liking to. But even with him, Ritchie acted cold. So our grandfather titled the cage and Ritchie slid out of it. As soon as he was out, he did nothing but lay sprawled on the ground. The sight was enough to make me cry, but I didn't. I assured myself that things would end up fine.
That day, they brought him to the vet. My siblings wanted to turn their attention away from worrying, so they played with Poochi instead. I couldn't stop pacing back and forth. I didn't have enough reassurance in me to be happy with them. I wanted to know what was happening to him at that time, and I hated the fact that I had stayed in the house. I couldn't push aside the feeling in me that Ritchie lying on the ground helplessly would be the last scene I could picture him in. I didn't want to cry. Not yet. Crying meant I was accepting the fact that he'd be gone. I didn't want to let the tears fall down.
When the sound of the car's horn reached our ears, all of us went to meet them. But when my mother came out, she had a sad look plastered on her face. I didn't have to listen to her next words to know what had happened. "He didn't make it...He died in the car, just as we reached the vet."
It all fell down in an instant. If I had known that he would be gone from me...If I had known that the last time I patted him would have been the last time...If I had known that the last time he stared up at us with his warm brown eyes would be the look we'd always remember...I would never have turned away from him. I cried for him. I loved him, and I wasn't prepared to say goodbye. I cried for so long, locking myself up and not wanting to talk to anyone about it. Everything came back to me. The first time he entered the house...the first time he licked our faces...the first time he and Poochi had a fight...everything.
But horror struck me as I tried to remember what he looked like. The harder I tried to remember, the easier it faded. I desperately wanted to remember how he looked like, and so I dug around for his Baby Book. When I opened it, I stared at it blankly. All hope was lost. We didn't even have a picture of him. He was gone from me...forever.
I didn't even have the chance to say goodbye...
It took me a few days to recover. And as soon as I felt better, my mom confronted me. She told me that I had to be brave. I looked down and cried silently. I told her that I didn't want him to leave me. My mom put her arm around me. Her next words surprised me more than anything else.
"It may be because of the broken ribs that Ritchie died, but believe me, it may have been because of another reason. A more noble reason. Legend says that when a pet dies, it does so to save its owner."
I stopped crying and gave her a questioning look.
"Do you remember when your sister had high fever, just a few weeks before? It may have been deadly. All the signs of Dengue were there, and we were starting to prepare ourselves. If it had been dengue, that would've been her third time. And honestly, not many people even survive their first experience with Dengue. She would have been very lucky to survive it again."
She smiled at me before she continued.
"And then, it was gone. The rashes , the high fever. And you know, Kina, I think Ritchie died to save your sister. It was a very noble thing that he did, Kina. Be proud of him."
Up until now, I still believe in what my mother had told me. And I cannot thank Ritchie enough for it. He gave up his own life to save my sister, and I will never forget it.
Every year, when June 15 arrives,
I know that two important friends in my life share that day. My best friend in elementary celebrates her birthday on that very day.
And it was during the morning of June 15, that my Ritchie heroically gave up his life, in place of someone very important to me.
OUR TRIP TO THE NATIONAL LIBRARY PART II
UNEDITED SAMPLE LITERARY ARTICLE
By Jessica Leal Manalili
IV Albert Einstein
They say love is sweeter the second time around, but was our trip too? Though it was still sweet because we had fun and we ate a lot; it was also bitter because our intention of touring Manila did not pursue mainly because we still researched and time was of the matter and partly because it rained and that we were not complete.
Unlike our first trip, we reached the National Library with fewer mishaps, most of which are accidental. At the library, we met other Maksci students trying to figure their way out. Searching desperately even though they didn’t know how to. WE put ourselves in their shoes and remembered ourselves the first time we were here. We remembered the hardships, but we also remembered the zero in our tests and the lessons we missed. But because we were very generous and modest, we helped them out a bit, feeling knowledgeable.
We still left late at around 4 pm and are still ravenous. We ate much and we were supposed to goof around but the inevitable happened. It rained. We were stuck at BookSale, letting the hours pass. There were books with prices ranging from 5php- 35o php. We noticed that quite a number of people were searching the 5php – 15php books section. We copied them, trying to find a feasible book but we failed. If you were I, would you have bought a book without substance just because it was cheap? I didn’t. I couldn’t help but compare it to the National Library, full of substantial books.
My companions still made fun of me but this time not because I was ignorant. It was because I already spent all my money on food that I didn’t have any more spare money. Though the tour was cancelled, I still hope that it would happen one of these days.
I will wait.
By Jessica Leal Manalili
IV Albert Einstein
They say love is sweeter the second time around, but was our trip too? Though it was still sweet because we had fun and we ate a lot; it was also bitter because our intention of touring Manila did not pursue mainly because we still researched and time was of the matter and partly because it rained and that we were not complete.
Unlike our first trip, we reached the National Library with fewer mishaps, most of which are accidental. At the library, we met other Maksci students trying to figure their way out. Searching desperately even though they didn’t know how to. WE put ourselves in their shoes and remembered ourselves the first time we were here. We remembered the hardships, but we also remembered the zero in our tests and the lessons we missed. But because we were very generous and modest, we helped them out a bit, feeling knowledgeable.
We still left late at around 4 pm and are still ravenous. We ate much and we were supposed to goof around but the inevitable happened. It rained. We were stuck at BookSale, letting the hours pass. There were books with prices ranging from 5php- 35o php. We noticed that quite a number of people were searching the 5php – 15php books section. We copied them, trying to find a feasible book but we failed. If you were I, would you have bought a book without substance just because it was cheap? I didn’t. I couldn’t help but compare it to the National Library, full of substantial books.
My companions still made fun of me but this time not because I was ignorant. It was because I already spent all my money on food that I didn’t have any more spare money. Though the tour was cancelled, I still hope that it would happen one of these days.
I will wait.
OUR TRIP TO THE NATIONAL LIBRARY PART I
UNEDITED SAMPLE LITERARY ARTICLE
By Jessica Leal Manalili
IV-Albert Einstein
July 10, 2008 – I, together with Wilfredo, Driesch, mara, Jhoan, Jesseca, Francesca and Kim, went to the National Library of The Philippines.
We gathered in two groups, one at Jolibee Guadalupe the other at Bangkal. After which we teamed up at Jolibee UN Ave. At first there was confusion because we were both at Jolibbe UN Ave. but we could not find each other. Here goes our phone conversation:
Nasaan na kayo? Nasa Jolibee na kami!
Nasa Jolibee na rin kami, bAkit wala naman kayo?
It turned out there were two Jolibee at UN Avenue: one was near the LRT station the other was at Times Plaza. When we finally met up, we just laughed at our stupidity and carried on with our purpose. First up, look for the National Library. Jesseca says, “We should ride a jeep to Kalaw Ave., that’s what my cousin said”. But to make sure, we asked a street vendor and he instructed us to just walk because Kalaw Ave. was just a block away. He said that we should cross the street and then walk straight. “It’s across 7-eleven”, he said. So we walked. We saw 7-eleven but there was no library across it. We walked some more. We passed the Seafarer’s center and the numerous booths for seamen travel destinations. We even noted that the Sulpicio Lines booth was vacant. We also passed the Department of Tourism. At last at 9:46 am, after all the mishaps and many subdued traffic accidents, we set foot on The National Library.
Like the usual Pinoy, we wouldn’t let the opportunity of taking a picture pass. WE posed like freaks and were dumbfounded by the massive structure that lay before us.
“Wow, so this is it.”, I thought silently to myself.
Once inside the library, we asked the guard for instructions and then we registered. Then we got hold of our very own Reader’s card.
“Cool! My very own reader’s card.”, I thought silently to myself.
We were very excited that we just couldn’t keep it to ourselves. After depositing our bags, we went first to the Filipiñiana Section, with no idea whatsoever, we were approached by a library staff. She directed us to someone that could help us. Mr. Cruz gave us certain books, but it wasn’t enough. So we went off by ourselves. Exploring each section of the library, we set out in groups and went on with our research. Photocopy. Borrow. Fill-up. Stairs. Return. Photocopy. Catalog. Copy. Stairs. Borrow. Return. Read.
Then we went to the Multimedia Center and discovered the wonder of the Microfilm. We were so amazed by the said apparatus that our jaws literally dropped. As we marveled, we were given instructions. The only drawback was that we took so much time in scanning and printing that the cashier closed in on us and we had to pay in the cashier’s office just to claim our printouts. Some found many articles, some found few. But nonetheless, we were happy. At 5:30 pm we left the National Library. With no food in our stomach since breakfast, we were ravenous. We went to Jolibee in the record-breaking fourth time for that same day. There we devoured and indulged in fastfood delicacies to our heart’s content.
Even our trip back home was educational. My eyes were full of images of UP, PGH, St. Paul, Malate, Paco, clubs, people. We agreed to come back to the National Library, but not to research but to tour around Manila.
Though my companions made fun of me because I was ignorant of the places that they pointed at and seemed very much like a nomad, I didn’t mind. I was happy. It is one trip that I enjoyed.
I would remember.
By Jessica Leal Manalili
IV-Albert Einstein
July 10, 2008 – I, together with Wilfredo, Driesch, mara, Jhoan, Jesseca, Francesca and Kim, went to the National Library of The Philippines.
We gathered in two groups, one at Jolibee Guadalupe the other at Bangkal. After which we teamed up at Jolibee UN Ave. At first there was confusion because we were both at Jolibbe UN Ave. but we could not find each other. Here goes our phone conversation:
Nasaan na kayo? Nasa Jolibee na kami!
Nasa Jolibee na rin kami, bAkit wala naman kayo?
It turned out there were two Jolibee at UN Avenue: one was near the LRT station the other was at Times Plaza. When we finally met up, we just laughed at our stupidity and carried on with our purpose. First up, look for the National Library. Jesseca says, “We should ride a jeep to Kalaw Ave., that’s what my cousin said”. But to make sure, we asked a street vendor and he instructed us to just walk because Kalaw Ave. was just a block away. He said that we should cross the street and then walk straight. “It’s across 7-eleven”, he said. So we walked. We saw 7-eleven but there was no library across it. We walked some more. We passed the Seafarer’s center and the numerous booths for seamen travel destinations. We even noted that the Sulpicio Lines booth was vacant. We also passed the Department of Tourism. At last at 9:46 am, after all the mishaps and many subdued traffic accidents, we set foot on The National Library.
Like the usual Pinoy, we wouldn’t let the opportunity of taking a picture pass. WE posed like freaks and were dumbfounded by the massive structure that lay before us.
“Wow, so this is it.”, I thought silently to myself.
Once inside the library, we asked the guard for instructions and then we registered. Then we got hold of our very own Reader’s card.
“Cool! My very own reader’s card.”, I thought silently to myself.
We were very excited that we just couldn’t keep it to ourselves. After depositing our bags, we went first to the Filipiñiana Section, with no idea whatsoever, we were approached by a library staff. She directed us to someone that could help us. Mr. Cruz gave us certain books, but it wasn’t enough. So we went off by ourselves. Exploring each section of the library, we set out in groups and went on with our research. Photocopy. Borrow. Fill-up. Stairs. Return. Photocopy. Catalog. Copy. Stairs. Borrow. Return. Read.
Then we went to the Multimedia Center and discovered the wonder of the Microfilm. We were so amazed by the said apparatus that our jaws literally dropped. As we marveled, we were given instructions. The only drawback was that we took so much time in scanning and printing that the cashier closed in on us and we had to pay in the cashier’s office just to claim our printouts. Some found many articles, some found few. But nonetheless, we were happy. At 5:30 pm we left the National Library. With no food in our stomach since breakfast, we were ravenous. We went to Jolibee in the record-breaking fourth time for that same day. There we devoured and indulged in fastfood delicacies to our heart’s content.
Even our trip back home was educational. My eyes were full of images of UP, PGH, St. Paul, Malate, Paco, clubs, people. We agreed to come back to the National Library, but not to research but to tour around Manila.
Though my companions made fun of me because I was ignorant of the places that they pointed at and seemed very much like a nomad, I didn’t mind. I was happy. It is one trip that I enjoyed.
I would remember.
NEVER SAYING HELLO AGAIN
UNEDITED SAMPLE LITERARY ARTICLE
By Zatia Denise Danao Gammad
IV-Madame Marie Curie
Sitting beside the engraved marble epitaph, I lit two white candles and his favorite incense sticks and said the prayers he taught me when I was three years old. It was on a sunny day that I felt sadness still lingering in me. Why did he have to leave? He was a religious man, and he was a heroic man. He served the church for as long as I could remember, and he served the country for a lifetime. Yet it wasn’t enough to let him stay in return of his unconditional services. As the whispering breeze combed my straight hair, I imagined the times he used to do it before I played with my friends. He was waving goodbye as I rushed to play patintero or hide-and-seek with them. I knew that saying goodbye meant saying hello again soon. That’s why I waved back with a smile whenever he did that. But when he waved goodbye to me at the intensive care unit last October 2006, I feared that waving back would mean a different one. And indeed it was.
He waved for the very last time as he closed his eyes and never woke up. I never received a hello again from my grandfather. It was heartbreaking; it was truly devastating. Tears didn’t hesitate to trickle down my face as sorrow grew deeper than I could ever imagine. The scenario was still vivid in my memory. The needle, the dextrose, the metal instruments. They were all terrifying. And they were all entering his body, trying to hold his life in place. The doctors informed him of what procedures were to be done before they executed it. They were countless and the incisions were too insufferable. I was in pain and so did everybody else. My parents were beside me as we watched from the glass window. My uncles and aunts held each others’ arms and hands as they watched too. My cousins couldn’t bear watching it and so did I. But the mere presence of mine gave him strength to fight, like the times he used to shoot in the field. And everybody else’s presence gave him more strength to hold on. My grandmother was inside that cold tiled room. She was brave as she held my grandfather’s hand. She masked her dread with vacant expressions for she knew that grief would lose his will to live. But he had a will that was unexpected.
He had a congenital disease of polycystic kidneys and liver. They were parasites eating up his strong will. For years, he ignored it. He did not use a single centavo to cure it. Instead, thick-crust pizzas and half-gallon ice creams were his priorities. He sent them every month as a monitory note of his stay in the city. And yes it was a good sign. But later, he knew in his heart that he would soon leave but he hid his fear from us. He was just there, in the old-fashioned church of Basa Air Base in Pampanga, serving communion to retired soldiers and their families. Sickness was the only thing that he would not be open about for it made pity reflect in his face. And he was not to be pitied upon. He was a fighter stronger than all of his own soldiers combined. He was a defender of man, of truth, and of justice. Even with us cousins who used to play rough with every neighboring kid in Nayong Pobre, our grandfather would end the battle. But never did I expect that he would end the battle in him. His strength became a failure. His will was no longer to hold on but to give up. He chose to walk up and sit beside his best friend. God. The ever merciful God.
I was not allowed to enter that cold tiled room but I can picture what he requested to his children. He asked for what will be done in his funeral and the inheritance that he’ll leave. Each of them strode inside with courage for a single step crossing the door made everyone frail with woes. His children are his most loyal soldiers. And loyalty was still alive even when something planned is at the face of death. So they followed. Everything my grandfather requested. The disallowing of gun fires during his burial, the distribution of his savings to his grandchildren, the giving of his motorcycle to my brother, and others. I could see from that glass window that they tried to act deaf for it was a signal of him finally waving goodbye. But then it would not make him peaceful if his last orders were not followed. Before he was rushed to the AFP Medical Center, he requested a last visitation at the Christ the King Church to receive his last communion and say his last prayers. Though I cannot read the messages he had for the Lord, I was certain with one. He was ready to say goodbye and never to say hello again.
Now, as I sit six feet above him, I still share my achievements and worries that I’ve recently experienced. I wait for the crisp scent of his favorite incense sticks to blend with the warm air blanketing my body. I still reminisce about the times he used to kiss my forehead, teach me The Angelus, remind me to always tie the laces of my right shoe first, and to study well. With sadness slowly flying away, I stand and give my kiss to his engraved marble epitaph. I know that my prayers have reached his ears high above the composed clouds. As I walk away, leaving a trail of the remaining strength from that tragic scenario, the candles burn an everlasting light of hope that he’ll soon say hello to me once again.
By Zatia Denise Danao Gammad
IV-Madame Marie Curie
Sitting beside the engraved marble epitaph, I lit two white candles and his favorite incense sticks and said the prayers he taught me when I was three years old. It was on a sunny day that I felt sadness still lingering in me. Why did he have to leave? He was a religious man, and he was a heroic man. He served the church for as long as I could remember, and he served the country for a lifetime. Yet it wasn’t enough to let him stay in return of his unconditional services. As the whispering breeze combed my straight hair, I imagined the times he used to do it before I played with my friends. He was waving goodbye as I rushed to play patintero or hide-and-seek with them. I knew that saying goodbye meant saying hello again soon. That’s why I waved back with a smile whenever he did that. But when he waved goodbye to me at the intensive care unit last October 2006, I feared that waving back would mean a different one. And indeed it was.
He waved for the very last time as he closed his eyes and never woke up. I never received a hello again from my grandfather. It was heartbreaking; it was truly devastating. Tears didn’t hesitate to trickle down my face as sorrow grew deeper than I could ever imagine. The scenario was still vivid in my memory. The needle, the dextrose, the metal instruments. They were all terrifying. And they were all entering his body, trying to hold his life in place. The doctors informed him of what procedures were to be done before they executed it. They were countless and the incisions were too insufferable. I was in pain and so did everybody else. My parents were beside me as we watched from the glass window. My uncles and aunts held each others’ arms and hands as they watched too. My cousins couldn’t bear watching it and so did I. But the mere presence of mine gave him strength to fight, like the times he used to shoot in the field. And everybody else’s presence gave him more strength to hold on. My grandmother was inside that cold tiled room. She was brave as she held my grandfather’s hand. She masked her dread with vacant expressions for she knew that grief would lose his will to live. But he had a will that was unexpected.
He had a congenital disease of polycystic kidneys and liver. They were parasites eating up his strong will. For years, he ignored it. He did not use a single centavo to cure it. Instead, thick-crust pizzas and half-gallon ice creams were his priorities. He sent them every month as a monitory note of his stay in the city. And yes it was a good sign. But later, he knew in his heart that he would soon leave but he hid his fear from us. He was just there, in the old-fashioned church of Basa Air Base in Pampanga, serving communion to retired soldiers and their families. Sickness was the only thing that he would not be open about for it made pity reflect in his face. And he was not to be pitied upon. He was a fighter stronger than all of his own soldiers combined. He was a defender of man, of truth, and of justice. Even with us cousins who used to play rough with every neighboring kid in Nayong Pobre, our grandfather would end the battle. But never did I expect that he would end the battle in him. His strength became a failure. His will was no longer to hold on but to give up. He chose to walk up and sit beside his best friend. God. The ever merciful God.
I was not allowed to enter that cold tiled room but I can picture what he requested to his children. He asked for what will be done in his funeral and the inheritance that he’ll leave. Each of them strode inside with courage for a single step crossing the door made everyone frail with woes. His children are his most loyal soldiers. And loyalty was still alive even when something planned is at the face of death. So they followed. Everything my grandfather requested. The disallowing of gun fires during his burial, the distribution of his savings to his grandchildren, the giving of his motorcycle to my brother, and others. I could see from that glass window that they tried to act deaf for it was a signal of him finally waving goodbye. But then it would not make him peaceful if his last orders were not followed. Before he was rushed to the AFP Medical Center, he requested a last visitation at the Christ the King Church to receive his last communion and say his last prayers. Though I cannot read the messages he had for the Lord, I was certain with one. He was ready to say goodbye and never to say hello again.
Now, as I sit six feet above him, I still share my achievements and worries that I’ve recently experienced. I wait for the crisp scent of his favorite incense sticks to blend with the warm air blanketing my body. I still reminisce about the times he used to kiss my forehead, teach me The Angelus, remind me to always tie the laces of my right shoe first, and to study well. With sadness slowly flying away, I stand and give my kiss to his engraved marble epitaph. I know that my prayers have reached his ears high above the composed clouds. As I walk away, leaving a trail of the remaining strength from that tragic scenario, the candles burn an everlasting light of hope that he’ll soon say hello to me once again.
NO STRIKE FOUR
UNEDITED SAMPLE LITERARY ARTICLE
By Jose Mari Hall Lanuza
IV-Enrico Fermi
He never, for once, thought that things would go this way. Not once.
He never knew what real love was like. He saw the matter the way TV shows and movies depicted it. He thought that once you fell for someone, a happy ending was sure to come any time soon. He thought that rejection and pain never existed with someone you love. He thought of it as a noble, almost perfect thing. He thought wrong.
When he fell for his best friend, he found out early that it was not like the movies he had seen before or the shows he had watched at home. There were complications involved, complications never shown in stories ending with the line “happily ever after.” He had to hide his feelings because he knew his best friend loved someone else. He had to endure their long conversations that never missed the lines “he’s so sweet!” or “I really love him.” So when he finally mustered up the courage to tell his best friend the way he felt about her, it was too late. She said that she liked him too, that she felt the same way, that she loved him more than the other guy. But she thought he never felt the same. He realized the mistake he made, but it was simply too late. His best friend was already with the other guy. He never had the chance to have her. Strike number one.
After his heartbreak, he found peace and happiness in the form of their class valedictorian. She never saw it coming, and so did he. One day, they just happened to be left alone in school. They were really happy with each other that day, and things started there. For the next few days, they spent each moment near each other. He thought that maybe this was the love he saw on movies, the love he saw on TV shows. Everything was perfect. They were happy having one another. They were supposed to be the perfect couple, until graduation. He kept the tears to himself, he never showed his emotions. While he was on the first row and she was on the stage, they both tried to look happy. He made her laugh, she gave him a smile. And when the ceremony ended, he didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. He just touched her ever so slightly on her shoulders and told her to stop crying, then walked away. They never saw each other again. Strike number two.
When he entered high school, he tried to avoid love for a while. He treated the TV and the movie screen as traitors, fooling him with naïve, perfect views of love. He thought that the only way those things could happen were if there was either a couple of fairy godparents roaming around, or there was divine intervention. He lost his naïve views - or at least, until she came. She was a friend of his best friend. All three of them were batch mates. She was with another, but things were already vague between the two of them. When the girl finally broke up with the guy, he came into the picture. He befriended her, comforted her, and helped her with her problems, with the hope that someday she would notice him. It took a long time, and a lot of effort, but it paid off. She said that she liked him too, but things immediately got up in a bad way. They drifted apart, and someone else came in the way. He was sure he had lost her forever. He grew depressed for a few weeks. He never got to accept that things simply were not meant to be. Strike number three.
After three strikes on love, he thought he was surely out. There never was a fourth strike in baseball, and the third time should have been the charm. So he sank into a deep reverie, thinking that maybe love was stupid. From then on, he always told himself, “if it is meant to be, it is meant to be. If not, then love sucks.” He kept on brooding over the seemingly repetitive tortures his heart went through in the past few years. He thought that love would never come again. Maybe he grew tired of it. Maybe it grew tired of him.
On his birthday, a few days after Valentine’s and a few weeks after his heartbreak, he decided that it was time to stop being depressed. He started to live life again. He talked to his friends again, and he gained new ones in the process. He also gained the person who would eventually make him believe again in the noble and naïve views of love. He regularly played pranks at her back then, so he knew her. They were acquaintances. So it did not shock her when he asked her for a gift. He said that someone to talk to would be neat, so they texted each other very frequently. They became instant friends. He told her about his problems, she confided her secrets to him. They became very close within a short amount of time. It seemed that their personalities really clicked, even though they were two opposite people. As days passed, it seemed that they grew fond of talking to each other, and they knew that their days were incomplete without receiving at least one text message from one another.
They never saw it coming. He never thought that he would have come to love her, and that she would feel the same. They thought that friendship was all they had to offer to each other, but apparently they were wrong. They slowly realized that they loved each other. He found out that there was another side to love, a side he never knew. A side that felt like paradise. They were suddenly the perfect couple. He was lost without her, she was miserable without him. Finally, he found someone that loved him the way he loved her. Many problems arose, but they faced them together. They never let go. They never gave up. They simply got over every hurdle that fate gave them. They were in love.
He thought that fairy tales were never meant for reality. He thought that such things were not humanly possible. Now, he thinks exactly the opposite. He is the knight of his own fairy tale, with his fair maiden by his side. And even though happy ending is a little farther than normal, they know that it will not escape from their hands. They know that the ending will only be happy if they spend it together. This is his fairy tale. He hopes that you will have the same ending, a happy one.
By Jose Mari Hall Lanuza
IV-Enrico Fermi
He never, for once, thought that things would go this way. Not once.
He never knew what real love was like. He saw the matter the way TV shows and movies depicted it. He thought that once you fell for someone, a happy ending was sure to come any time soon. He thought that rejection and pain never existed with someone you love. He thought of it as a noble, almost perfect thing. He thought wrong.
When he fell for his best friend, he found out early that it was not like the movies he had seen before or the shows he had watched at home. There were complications involved, complications never shown in stories ending with the line “happily ever after.” He had to hide his feelings because he knew his best friend loved someone else. He had to endure their long conversations that never missed the lines “he’s so sweet!” or “I really love him.” So when he finally mustered up the courage to tell his best friend the way he felt about her, it was too late. She said that she liked him too, that she felt the same way, that she loved him more than the other guy. But she thought he never felt the same. He realized the mistake he made, but it was simply too late. His best friend was already with the other guy. He never had the chance to have her. Strike number one.
After his heartbreak, he found peace and happiness in the form of their class valedictorian. She never saw it coming, and so did he. One day, they just happened to be left alone in school. They were really happy with each other that day, and things started there. For the next few days, they spent each moment near each other. He thought that maybe this was the love he saw on movies, the love he saw on TV shows. Everything was perfect. They were happy having one another. They were supposed to be the perfect couple, until graduation. He kept the tears to himself, he never showed his emotions. While he was on the first row and she was on the stage, they both tried to look happy. He made her laugh, she gave him a smile. And when the ceremony ended, he didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. He just touched her ever so slightly on her shoulders and told her to stop crying, then walked away. They never saw each other again. Strike number two.
When he entered high school, he tried to avoid love for a while. He treated the TV and the movie screen as traitors, fooling him with naïve, perfect views of love. He thought that the only way those things could happen were if there was either a couple of fairy godparents roaming around, or there was divine intervention. He lost his naïve views - or at least, until she came. She was a friend of his best friend. All three of them were batch mates. She was with another, but things were already vague between the two of them. When the girl finally broke up with the guy, he came into the picture. He befriended her, comforted her, and helped her with her problems, with the hope that someday she would notice him. It took a long time, and a lot of effort, but it paid off. She said that she liked him too, but things immediately got up in a bad way. They drifted apart, and someone else came in the way. He was sure he had lost her forever. He grew depressed for a few weeks. He never got to accept that things simply were not meant to be. Strike number three.
After three strikes on love, he thought he was surely out. There never was a fourth strike in baseball, and the third time should have been the charm. So he sank into a deep reverie, thinking that maybe love was stupid. From then on, he always told himself, “if it is meant to be, it is meant to be. If not, then love sucks.” He kept on brooding over the seemingly repetitive tortures his heart went through in the past few years. He thought that love would never come again. Maybe he grew tired of it. Maybe it grew tired of him.
On his birthday, a few days after Valentine’s and a few weeks after his heartbreak, he decided that it was time to stop being depressed. He started to live life again. He talked to his friends again, and he gained new ones in the process. He also gained the person who would eventually make him believe again in the noble and naïve views of love. He regularly played pranks at her back then, so he knew her. They were acquaintances. So it did not shock her when he asked her for a gift. He said that someone to talk to would be neat, so they texted each other very frequently. They became instant friends. He told her about his problems, she confided her secrets to him. They became very close within a short amount of time. It seemed that their personalities really clicked, even though they were two opposite people. As days passed, it seemed that they grew fond of talking to each other, and they knew that their days were incomplete without receiving at least one text message from one another.
They never saw it coming. He never thought that he would have come to love her, and that she would feel the same. They thought that friendship was all they had to offer to each other, but apparently they were wrong. They slowly realized that they loved each other. He found out that there was another side to love, a side he never knew. A side that felt like paradise. They were suddenly the perfect couple. He was lost without her, she was miserable without him. Finally, he found someone that loved him the way he loved her. Many problems arose, but they faced them together. They never let go. They never gave up. They simply got over every hurdle that fate gave them. They were in love.
He thought that fairy tales were never meant for reality. He thought that such things were not humanly possible. Now, he thinks exactly the opposite. He is the knight of his own fairy tale, with his fair maiden by his side. And even though happy ending is a little farther than normal, they know that it will not escape from their hands. They know that the ending will only be happy if they spend it together. This is his fairy tale. He hopes that you will have the same ending, a happy one.
A REFLECTION
UNEDITED SAMPLE LITERARY ARTICLE
By Ancilla Marie Baulita Inocenio
IV-Madame Marie Curie
It was a midwinter night, and the cool breeze touched me as I awoke. My body began to hurt, painfully as if pierced by the wind. Everything felt mysterious and I was frightened as if death was after me. I decided to run to quench my curiosity to know what was really going on, but the pain tortured every step I had tried to make.
As I was running, searching for help, I realized I was lost in the midst of nowhere. Each step seemed to take me to a new dimension. I knew I was alone but it felt like eyes were angrily staring at me. I kept on walking, searching and hoping that maybe, just maybe, this was all just a nightmare. I passed through strange places, caves, and lastly my feet led me to a strangely beautiful lake. It was dark and murky, but there was someone or something reflected on it.
Out of curiosity, I stared at it, expecting there was someone else who could be of help, but all I saw was the reflection of a monster. It was covered in blood; its body was full of wounds, as if slashed repeatedly until its flesh was starting to come out of its skin. What was that? Why was it standing in front of me? I felt sorry for it but I felt terrified when much to my surprise, it was wearing my valued pendant. It was only then that I realized that the being I saw was my own reflection.
Questions filled my head at once. What happened to me? Why was I covered in blood? Was I trying to run away from something? Was I trying to kill anyone? Or was anyone trying to kill me? My mind blanked out, and I did not know what to do. I was confused and the pain every time the breeze pierced through my tattered skin only made everything worse. I got sick of it, and I just wanted to let go of myself. I, thinking that everything would end, jumped off the cliff. I came falling from the cliff and I expected to land on rock hard ground, when I landed on a familiar place. It felt nostalgic and almost like déjà vu.
A scene suddenly began to flash in front of my eyes. Two children with blurred faces were playing around a huge cherry tree. They were calling each other Amaryllis and Alstroemeria. Right under the cherry tree, Amaryllis gave a familiar pendant to Alstroemeria. The scene began to blur fast and a new scene was replacing it. As I was startled by the turmoil, I found myself lying in a coffin. I was too frightened to look if there was someone else beside me, but my instincts mad me see the corpse of Amaryllis. When I stared at her for a long time, I forgot my fears but tears just suddenly ran down my face. I do not know this child, but I felt remorse for Amaryllis. I was crying, but I thought it was just because she resembled someone I knew.
The scene changed once more and I found myself in the middle of a fight between the two children. Amaryllis was crying maybe because Alstroemeria left her alone, with the pendant thrown at her face. I tried to run to comfort Amaryllis but when I tried to touch her, it seemed like I was only a ghost. I did not expect her to see me but she was able to do so. She looked at my pendant, angrily, then at me as if she wanted to kill me. I ran away from her and I found myself back from falling off the cliff. This time, I fell on the rocky bottom that pierced through my body.
I felt like dying when Amaryllis came running towards me with a bunch of flowers, similar to those given to the dead. She touched my head and memories suddenly began to come back. The previous scenes now showed the true faces of the children, revealing that I was Alstroemeria and Amaryllis was my long lost friend. I saw Amaryllis being blamed for burning the village, and that is why she ran towards the cherry tree. She was expecting me to comfort her as her friend. I saw myself coming, but not as someone she expected. I was disgusted at her so I threw the pendant at her. I felt guilty when I saw myself calling the villagers towards Amaryllis. They buried her alive, and the miserable look on her face covered in blood and tears only made me want to kill myself as well.
She was holding the pendant tightly, crying until she was completely buried. I saw myself running away from it, but when everyone left, I came back to retrieve the pendant. It was only then I realized that I was wrong not to trust my only friend, and to have her killed at my own hands. I saw Amaryllis once more, and she was still staring at me. She was looking like she was happy that I was going to die. She acknowledged herself for what had happened to me, for all the pain I had suffered. I had nothing left to say as life was running low on me. With the desire to clear my conscience, I said, “I am sorry. I knew I was wrong but I still want you to know how important you are to me and that you will always be a part of me.” Those were my last words; for the last time, seeing her smile was more than enough to bid me goodbye.
By Ancilla Marie Baulita Inocenio
IV-Madame Marie Curie
It was a midwinter night, and the cool breeze touched me as I awoke. My body began to hurt, painfully as if pierced by the wind. Everything felt mysterious and I was frightened as if death was after me. I decided to run to quench my curiosity to know what was really going on, but the pain tortured every step I had tried to make.
As I was running, searching for help, I realized I was lost in the midst of nowhere. Each step seemed to take me to a new dimension. I knew I was alone but it felt like eyes were angrily staring at me. I kept on walking, searching and hoping that maybe, just maybe, this was all just a nightmare. I passed through strange places, caves, and lastly my feet led me to a strangely beautiful lake. It was dark and murky, but there was someone or something reflected on it.
Out of curiosity, I stared at it, expecting there was someone else who could be of help, but all I saw was the reflection of a monster. It was covered in blood; its body was full of wounds, as if slashed repeatedly until its flesh was starting to come out of its skin. What was that? Why was it standing in front of me? I felt sorry for it but I felt terrified when much to my surprise, it was wearing my valued pendant. It was only then that I realized that the being I saw was my own reflection.
Questions filled my head at once. What happened to me? Why was I covered in blood? Was I trying to run away from something? Was I trying to kill anyone? Or was anyone trying to kill me? My mind blanked out, and I did not know what to do. I was confused and the pain every time the breeze pierced through my tattered skin only made everything worse. I got sick of it, and I just wanted to let go of myself. I, thinking that everything would end, jumped off the cliff. I came falling from the cliff and I expected to land on rock hard ground, when I landed on a familiar place. It felt nostalgic and almost like déjà vu.
A scene suddenly began to flash in front of my eyes. Two children with blurred faces were playing around a huge cherry tree. They were calling each other Amaryllis and Alstroemeria. Right under the cherry tree, Amaryllis gave a familiar pendant to Alstroemeria. The scene began to blur fast and a new scene was replacing it. As I was startled by the turmoil, I found myself lying in a coffin. I was too frightened to look if there was someone else beside me, but my instincts mad me see the corpse of Amaryllis. When I stared at her for a long time, I forgot my fears but tears just suddenly ran down my face. I do not know this child, but I felt remorse for Amaryllis. I was crying, but I thought it was just because she resembled someone I knew.
The scene changed once more and I found myself in the middle of a fight between the two children. Amaryllis was crying maybe because Alstroemeria left her alone, with the pendant thrown at her face. I tried to run to comfort Amaryllis but when I tried to touch her, it seemed like I was only a ghost. I did not expect her to see me but she was able to do so. She looked at my pendant, angrily, then at me as if she wanted to kill me. I ran away from her and I found myself back from falling off the cliff. This time, I fell on the rocky bottom that pierced through my body.
I felt like dying when Amaryllis came running towards me with a bunch of flowers, similar to those given to the dead. She touched my head and memories suddenly began to come back. The previous scenes now showed the true faces of the children, revealing that I was Alstroemeria and Amaryllis was my long lost friend. I saw Amaryllis being blamed for burning the village, and that is why she ran towards the cherry tree. She was expecting me to comfort her as her friend. I saw myself coming, but not as someone she expected. I was disgusted at her so I threw the pendant at her. I felt guilty when I saw myself calling the villagers towards Amaryllis. They buried her alive, and the miserable look on her face covered in blood and tears only made me want to kill myself as well.
She was holding the pendant tightly, crying until she was completely buried. I saw myself running away from it, but when everyone left, I came back to retrieve the pendant. It was only then I realized that I was wrong not to trust my only friend, and to have her killed at my own hands. I saw Amaryllis once more, and she was still staring at me. She was looking like she was happy that I was going to die. She acknowledged herself for what had happened to me, for all the pain I had suffered. I had nothing left to say as life was running low on me. With the desire to clear my conscience, I said, “I am sorry. I knew I was wrong but I still want you to know how important you are to me and that you will always be a part of me.” Those were my last words; for the last time, seeing her smile was more than enough to bid me goodbye.
A STORY IN THE EYES OF ANOTHER
UNEDITED SAMPLE LITERARY ARTICLE
By Therese Romaine Nalangan Rustia
IV-Michael Faraday
Everyday, many people are dying. Some die because of murder, some because of diseases while some because of other reasons. I have always wondered why the innocent have to die and the people who spread evil have to live. But as I grew up, I realized that it is not in our hands to decide who will live and who will die. It is all in God’s supreme power. Everything has a reason. Every laugh, every joy, every pain and every tear has its own time. All you have to do is trust God and believe everything will be all right.
I remember a time when I asked my mom many questions about death. I was about five years old and I was afraid of death itself. “When I die, would I still look the same? Would I still look like a little girl? What if I die old? Will I look old? Will I ever see you in heaven? What would you like then?” After all those questions, I started to cry. Not knowing why, I just did and my mom hugged me tight.
“Don’t think about those things. It will be a long time before that happens,” she whispered.
Although some of my relatives are now in heaven, I have accepted the concept of death. But this story isn’t about me. It’s about another. But what I saw through my eyes made me understand more of what is life all about.
I remember the day that I found out that Derek’s father died. A friend of mine informed me about the incident. After a few days, my friends and I decided to visit the wake. We found out that his father was only 35 years old when he died of heart attack. We went inside and approached the coffin where his father lay. As I looked at him, I saw Derek’s features in him. They looked so much alike. The only difference is that his son was very much alive.
There were many people inside. They were relatives and friends of their family. There were also friends of Derek’s brother who came and gave their condolences. People were bustling in and out, drinking coffee, eating food, chatting. We met his mom who was smiling and thanking us for coming. It was unlike any other wake that I have attended before. People weren’t crying, they all looked fine.
Amidst the tragedy that has happened in their life, they were still able to laugh and crack jokes. They even entertained us and gave us food. I knew they were in deep pain, but they couldn’t change the inevitable.
“How could they be so happy at a time like this?” I asked myself. And then I knew. They wanted to remain strong because they only have one another to depend on. They also have their complete trust to the Lord. Knowing that their father was now with our Creator, they have the peace within themselves. They thought that this was not the time to cry, but a time to be thankful not because you lost someone dear to you but because you know that he is with the Heavenly Father.
Death is not always goodbye. It does not really separate people. It is only a natural cycle of life that must be accepted. The real importance is what this person has imprinted on your life. What he left will always be treasured. And with his memory living in your heart, he lives on.
I really admired the strength of their family. With their strength, it helped me perceive death unlike others have.
By Therese Romaine Nalangan Rustia
IV-Michael Faraday
Everyday, many people are dying. Some die because of murder, some because of diseases while some because of other reasons. I have always wondered why the innocent have to die and the people who spread evil have to live. But as I grew up, I realized that it is not in our hands to decide who will live and who will die. It is all in God’s supreme power. Everything has a reason. Every laugh, every joy, every pain and every tear has its own time. All you have to do is trust God and believe everything will be all right.
I remember a time when I asked my mom many questions about death. I was about five years old and I was afraid of death itself. “When I die, would I still look the same? Would I still look like a little girl? What if I die old? Will I look old? Will I ever see you in heaven? What would you like then?” After all those questions, I started to cry. Not knowing why, I just did and my mom hugged me tight.
“Don’t think about those things. It will be a long time before that happens,” she whispered.
Although some of my relatives are now in heaven, I have accepted the concept of death. But this story isn’t about me. It’s about another. But what I saw through my eyes made me understand more of what is life all about.
I remember the day that I found out that Derek’s father died. A friend of mine informed me about the incident. After a few days, my friends and I decided to visit the wake. We found out that his father was only 35 years old when he died of heart attack. We went inside and approached the coffin where his father lay. As I looked at him, I saw Derek’s features in him. They looked so much alike. The only difference is that his son was very much alive.
There were many people inside. They were relatives and friends of their family. There were also friends of Derek’s brother who came and gave their condolences. People were bustling in and out, drinking coffee, eating food, chatting. We met his mom who was smiling and thanking us for coming. It was unlike any other wake that I have attended before. People weren’t crying, they all looked fine.
Amidst the tragedy that has happened in their life, they were still able to laugh and crack jokes. They even entertained us and gave us food. I knew they were in deep pain, but they couldn’t change the inevitable.
“How could they be so happy at a time like this?” I asked myself. And then I knew. They wanted to remain strong because they only have one another to depend on. They also have their complete trust to the Lord. Knowing that their father was now with our Creator, they have the peace within themselves. They thought that this was not the time to cry, but a time to be thankful not because you lost someone dear to you but because you know that he is with the Heavenly Father.
Death is not always goodbye. It does not really separate people. It is only a natural cycle of life that must be accepted. The real importance is what this person has imprinted on your life. What he left will always be treasured. And with his memory living in your heart, he lives on.
I really admired the strength of their family. With their strength, it helped me perceive death unlike others have.
LOVE HURTS, TRUST ME
UNEDITED SAMPLE LITERARY ARTICLE
By Jonathan Rod Sitchon De Guzman
II-Robert Hooke
If I love you; will you love me in return? If I say this; will you accept me? All I can hear are the poignant memories in my head. Wherever I go, wherever I hide; these sorrowful experiences keeps on lurking. While I’m searching for answers, answers that would lead me to you, answers that may help ease the pain inside me, I understand that maybe these answers does not exist at all. I tried as hard as I can to seek these answers only to find myself in a dark room, a room that has no way out, a room full of sorrow and remorse. Am I just awful? or maybe I’m not your type? or just plain unlucky?
On certain moments of my life, fear, remorse, curiosity and anger dominated me. Adversity stroke again and it made me so bewildered, bewildered in a way that you would not accept me. Is this the destiny I chose? Even the strongest man becomes weak through hardships like this.
I can still picture the very first moment I set my eyes on you. You’re charming giggles and that oh so sweet smile, so sweet smile. I may forget things in my life but certainly not you. I remembered when we got to know each other, your words sends my body to my knees. I noticed that I loved you starting from the start. My heart pounds triple time whenever I talk to you. I feel like I’m up on cloud nine when you’re with me.
I can’t help it!
My love for you seems endless. I know we’ve been together for just a little while, yet I realized that you’re that special something in me. You’re that cherry on top you’re the icing on my cake; you’re the missing piece on the jigsaw puzzle called my heart.
You’re the only one who’s holding the key to my heart. But then, I realized that you love another person. A scene I almost died thinking of.
What did I do to deserve this?
I never knew what hit me. It pierced through my heart like a thousand arrows struck at it. Is this the compensation for all the love I gave to you? I love you. I love you! Please don’t do this.
It seems that I cannot stop you. I hope that you will be happy for what you chose.
I never expected it would be like this. I thought you were my dream come true but no, definitely you’re not.
Whoever said that loving is hard?
Loving is easy; to be loved is the hard part.
By Jonathan Rod Sitchon De Guzman
II-Robert Hooke
If I love you; will you love me in return? If I say this; will you accept me? All I can hear are the poignant memories in my head. Wherever I go, wherever I hide; these sorrowful experiences keeps on lurking. While I’m searching for answers, answers that would lead me to you, answers that may help ease the pain inside me, I understand that maybe these answers does not exist at all. I tried as hard as I can to seek these answers only to find myself in a dark room, a room that has no way out, a room full of sorrow and remorse. Am I just awful? or maybe I’m not your type? or just plain unlucky?
On certain moments of my life, fear, remorse, curiosity and anger dominated me. Adversity stroke again and it made me so bewildered, bewildered in a way that you would not accept me. Is this the destiny I chose? Even the strongest man becomes weak through hardships like this.
I can still picture the very first moment I set my eyes on you. You’re charming giggles and that oh so sweet smile, so sweet smile. I may forget things in my life but certainly not you. I remembered when we got to know each other, your words sends my body to my knees. I noticed that I loved you starting from the start. My heart pounds triple time whenever I talk to you. I feel like I’m up on cloud nine when you’re with me.
I can’t help it!
My love for you seems endless. I know we’ve been together for just a little while, yet I realized that you’re that special something in me. You’re that cherry on top you’re the icing on my cake; you’re the missing piece on the jigsaw puzzle called my heart.
You’re the only one who’s holding the key to my heart. But then, I realized that you love another person. A scene I almost died thinking of.
What did I do to deserve this?
I never knew what hit me. It pierced through my heart like a thousand arrows struck at it. Is this the compensation for all the love I gave to you? I love you. I love you! Please don’t do this.
It seems that I cannot stop you. I hope that you will be happy for what you chose.
I never expected it would be like this. I thought you were my dream come true but no, definitely you’re not.
Whoever said that loving is hard?
Loving is easy; to be loved is the hard part.
Monday, August 11, 2008
EDITORIAL STAFF
SCHOOL YEAR 2008-2009
Vicson Aypa Mabanglo/ Editor in Chief
Ryan Trinidad Santiago/Associate Editor
Marian Denise Glipo Basallote/ Managing Editor
Zatia Denise Danao Gammad/ Managing Editor
Jonathan Sitchon De Guzman/ News Editor
Vladimir Paat Villegas/ Features Editor
Samantha Grace Ignacio Cruz/ Literary Editor
Jose Mari Hall Lanuza/ Sports Editor
Therese Romaine Nalangan Rustia/ Science and Health Editor
Jezel Christine Nolasco Quevada/ Dev Com Editor
Julia Nina Somera Moncada/ Arts and Graphics Design Editor
Ancilla Marie Baulita Inocencio/ Photography Editor
Bernadette Tadena Guimoy/ Web Editor
Jessica Leal Manalili/ Research Director
Christine Joy Ombania de Asis/ Senior Contributing Editor
Ma Inna Paulina Egamino Palana/ Senior Contributing Editor
Geraldine Refareal/ Junior Contributing Editor
Maylene Manzano/ Junior Contributing Editor
Vicson Aypa Mabanglo/ Editor in Chief
Ryan Trinidad Santiago/Associate Editor
Marian Denise Glipo Basallote/ Managing Editor
Zatia Denise Danao Gammad/ Managing Editor
Jonathan Sitchon De Guzman/ News Editor
Vladimir Paat Villegas/ Features Editor
Samantha Grace Ignacio Cruz/ Literary Editor
Jose Mari Hall Lanuza/ Sports Editor
Therese Romaine Nalangan Rustia/ Science and Health Editor
Jezel Christine Nolasco Quevada/ Dev Com Editor
Julia Nina Somera Moncada/ Arts and Graphics Design Editor
Ancilla Marie Baulita Inocencio/ Photography Editor
Bernadette Tadena Guimoy/ Web Editor
Jessica Leal Manalili/ Research Director
Christine Joy Ombania de Asis/ Senior Contributing Editor
Ma Inna Paulina Egamino Palana/ Senior Contributing Editor
Geraldine Refareal/ Junior Contributing Editor
Maylene Manzano/ Junior Contributing Editor
Sunday, August 3, 2008
NO MATTER HOW
UNEDITED SAMPLE LITERARY ARTICLE
By Colene Pabruada Cabaliza
IV-Sir Isaac Newton
Gazing outside my window, I saw multitudes of joyful faces. Alone, I closed my eyes and forced a smile. I wished to be as happy as everyone else, but the excruciating feeling I have inside is really intolerable. The tears imprisoned in my eyes longed for the freedom and the silenced shouts of pain in my heart pleaded to be heard. I tried to ignore the deafening cries inside me but this unbearable torment made its way out, and in my moments of solitude, tears rolled down my cheeks uncontrollably. I cannot understand why I am deeply anguished, or maybe I just do not want to accept the reason why.
As I ponder about the root of this torturing vine strangling me, I do not want to believe that all these pain could trace its way back to you.
The first time I saw you, I did not sense anything extraordinary. You were just a mere face who crossed my way. I did not experience this so called “floating” feeling or saw you amidst a shower of flowers. There were no sparkles, glitters or fireworks, either. I just simply got to know you. There were no manifestations or even a teensy weensy clue that you will be someone that I will learn to treasure and to care for so much. However, as the days go by, I learned to appreciate your presence. I have learned to like your smile. I became pleased just to hear your voice. At first I thought that I am having these unusual yet wonderful feelings merely because I wanted you to be my friend. Time hastily passed and I realized that I was wrong. I never knew the reason why I learned to like you. I lied to myself. I never wanted to think that I am learning to care a lot for you. I tried hard not to recognize the feelings I have inside for you. And lastly, I attempted not to admit to myself that I am falling in love with you.
But I could no longer deceive myself. I have to be honest and stop denying what I feel. I admitted to myself how much I love the way your eyes shine and your smile radiates. I ended lying about how I cherish every simple thing that transpired between us. I confessed the truth that by plainly seeing you, it makes my day of worth. I became true and sincere to myself, and I know that I really fell in love with you.
The terrible thing is, as I fell, you were not there for me. I hit the ground and I broke my heart. The bitter reality struck me even deeper as I contemplated about my feelings for you: I cared for you, I worried a lot about you, I always thought of you and I loved you. The agonizing pain inside me worsened and I felt severely miserable. It is so hurting within to think that even I love you so much, it seems that you were not able to feel even a speck of my love for you. I gather strength from your smile, but you never smiled for me. I wanted to hear your voice, but your lips were always shut for me. It would be so unlikely that you will be spending time for me, for I suppose that you consider moments with me as a waste of your time. As I delve deeper into my memories of shattered thoughts, I cried even harder and felt the stabs, pierces and tortures tearing my already-broken heart more and more.
I wanted to shout my silent agony. I wanted you to hear my stifled cries. I wanted to ask you a lot of things. How could you not feel my care and concern? How could you not recognize my love for you? Are you pretending not to notice my feelings for you? Or are you really that numb and cold?
The genuine cause of my suffering came to my realization: It is because no matter how much I care about you, you will appreciate nothing. No matter how much I would treasure you, you will do nothing. No matter how much I would love you, you will feel nothing. It hurts a lot because you do nothing. Absolutely nothing for me. You never cared or even pretended that you care. And with this realizations dawning on me, nothing could describe the pain I have felt.
I opened my eyes and wiped my tear-stricken face. I gazed outside my window once again; and found that the joyful faces I saw earlier were already gone. I stared blankly at the horizon, and found myself thinking about you all over again. I loathed myself for this, but I could never lie; from the moment I closed my eyes and the moment I opened it, nothing has changed. I still love you and I will. No matter how much it hurts.
By Colene Pabruada Cabaliza
IV-Sir Isaac Newton
Gazing outside my window, I saw multitudes of joyful faces. Alone, I closed my eyes and forced a smile. I wished to be as happy as everyone else, but the excruciating feeling I have inside is really intolerable. The tears imprisoned in my eyes longed for the freedom and the silenced shouts of pain in my heart pleaded to be heard. I tried to ignore the deafening cries inside me but this unbearable torment made its way out, and in my moments of solitude, tears rolled down my cheeks uncontrollably. I cannot understand why I am deeply anguished, or maybe I just do not want to accept the reason why.
As I ponder about the root of this torturing vine strangling me, I do not want to believe that all these pain could trace its way back to you.
The first time I saw you, I did not sense anything extraordinary. You were just a mere face who crossed my way. I did not experience this so called “floating” feeling or saw you amidst a shower of flowers. There were no sparkles, glitters or fireworks, either. I just simply got to know you. There were no manifestations or even a teensy weensy clue that you will be someone that I will learn to treasure and to care for so much. However, as the days go by, I learned to appreciate your presence. I have learned to like your smile. I became pleased just to hear your voice. At first I thought that I am having these unusual yet wonderful feelings merely because I wanted you to be my friend. Time hastily passed and I realized that I was wrong. I never knew the reason why I learned to like you. I lied to myself. I never wanted to think that I am learning to care a lot for you. I tried hard not to recognize the feelings I have inside for you. And lastly, I attempted not to admit to myself that I am falling in love with you.
But I could no longer deceive myself. I have to be honest and stop denying what I feel. I admitted to myself how much I love the way your eyes shine and your smile radiates. I ended lying about how I cherish every simple thing that transpired between us. I confessed the truth that by plainly seeing you, it makes my day of worth. I became true and sincere to myself, and I know that I really fell in love with you.
The terrible thing is, as I fell, you were not there for me. I hit the ground and I broke my heart. The bitter reality struck me even deeper as I contemplated about my feelings for you: I cared for you, I worried a lot about you, I always thought of you and I loved you. The agonizing pain inside me worsened and I felt severely miserable. It is so hurting within to think that even I love you so much, it seems that you were not able to feel even a speck of my love for you. I gather strength from your smile, but you never smiled for me. I wanted to hear your voice, but your lips were always shut for me. It would be so unlikely that you will be spending time for me, for I suppose that you consider moments with me as a waste of your time. As I delve deeper into my memories of shattered thoughts, I cried even harder and felt the stabs, pierces and tortures tearing my already-broken heart more and more.
I wanted to shout my silent agony. I wanted you to hear my stifled cries. I wanted to ask you a lot of things. How could you not feel my care and concern? How could you not recognize my love for you? Are you pretending not to notice my feelings for you? Or are you really that numb and cold?
The genuine cause of my suffering came to my realization: It is because no matter how much I care about you, you will appreciate nothing. No matter how much I would treasure you, you will do nothing. No matter how much I would love you, you will feel nothing. It hurts a lot because you do nothing. Absolutely nothing for me. You never cared or even pretended that you care. And with this realizations dawning on me, nothing could describe the pain I have felt.
I opened my eyes and wiped my tear-stricken face. I gazed outside my window once again; and found that the joyful faces I saw earlier were already gone. I stared blankly at the horizon, and found myself thinking about you all over again. I loathed myself for this, but I could never lie; from the moment I closed my eyes and the moment I opened it, nothing has changed. I still love you and I will. No matter how much it hurts.
SITTING, WAITING, WISHING
UNEDITED SAMPLE LITERARY ARTICLE
By Ma. Beatrice Camille Valencia Gaviola
IV-Enrico Fermi
You always have to learn the hard way, don’t you think so? Yeah, it’ll hurt [maybe] more than you thought it would. But in the end it will be for your benefit. You’ll learn something new through your own eyes; through your own experience. I’m not saying that getting hurt is a good thing, although sometimes, it is the only way we’ll really accept the truths and facts of life. It’s like losing a person, or maybe two persons. You never really realize they’re there, because they are by your side, at your every beckoned call. Once they are gone, it would be like a part of your life broke off and went with them, and that void never gets filled again.
Everyone gets hurt. We all know that. We all experience hardships in life, some more frequently than others. But we all still live; we still continue to push through. In my fifteen long years of existence, I’ve experienced gaining friends and losing them, leaving the school which I had loved and grown so accustomed to, scrimping ‘cause I spent a little too much, and sat idly and watched as our family slowly fell apart. Now I don’t blame anyone for any of these occurences, because I know I’m not supposed to.
Sometimes – no, most of the time – we want to give up. Give up on the problems, on ourselves, on life; but every once in a while, someone or something gives us hope to carry on. My mom always told me to be strong, though we were never really that open with each other. This was what I always tried to do. Be strong. Not only for her, but also for myself. For quite a while now, I’ve been okay with my situation in life. As most others would, I sometimes think deeply, and wish that things were better than they are, even though I know this is far from possible.
We all have to learn that life is not governed by justice. Sometimes, things, as unfair as they may seem, happen. We just need to accept them, and the cold hard truth that life is. It also helps to have a friend beside you, listening to you and helping you the whole way. We need to realize that these are God’s tests. He wouldn’t give us something we wouldn’t be able to handle, so don’t give up. Hold on.
By Ma. Beatrice Camille Valencia Gaviola
IV-Enrico Fermi
You always have to learn the hard way, don’t you think so? Yeah, it’ll hurt [maybe] more than you thought it would. But in the end it will be for your benefit. You’ll learn something new through your own eyes; through your own experience. I’m not saying that getting hurt is a good thing, although sometimes, it is the only way we’ll really accept the truths and facts of life. It’s like losing a person, or maybe two persons. You never really realize they’re there, because they are by your side, at your every beckoned call. Once they are gone, it would be like a part of your life broke off and went with them, and that void never gets filled again.
Everyone gets hurt. We all know that. We all experience hardships in life, some more frequently than others. But we all still live; we still continue to push through. In my fifteen long years of existence, I’ve experienced gaining friends and losing them, leaving the school which I had loved and grown so accustomed to, scrimping ‘cause I spent a little too much, and sat idly and watched as our family slowly fell apart. Now I don’t blame anyone for any of these occurences, because I know I’m not supposed to.
Sometimes – no, most of the time – we want to give up. Give up on the problems, on ourselves, on life; but every once in a while, someone or something gives us hope to carry on. My mom always told me to be strong, though we were never really that open with each other. This was what I always tried to do. Be strong. Not only for her, but also for myself. For quite a while now, I’ve been okay with my situation in life. As most others would, I sometimes think deeply, and wish that things were better than they are, even though I know this is far from possible.
We all have to learn that life is not governed by justice. Sometimes, things, as unfair as they may seem, happen. We just need to accept them, and the cold hard truth that life is. It also helps to have a friend beside you, listening to you and helping you the whole way. We need to realize that these are God’s tests. He wouldn’t give us something we wouldn’t be able to handle, so don’t give up. Hold on.
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