tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41977769797316213932024-03-12T21:44:06.382-07:00Apollo's Creed''setting no posts for prevarications..''felipe andreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00018309702578769076noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197776979731621393.post-90974071385600002652010-03-31T05:55:00.000-07:002010-03-31T06:00:14.864-07:00pasta moment<div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K-2fhMisEGI/S7NGviIWs4I/AAAAAAAAACE/EF__93TnnVo/s1600/spag.BMP"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454781356105446274" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K-2fhMisEGI/S7NGviIWs4I/AAAAAAAAACE/EF__93TnnVo/s320/spag.BMP" border="0" /></a> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="left">delicioso!</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">thanks to Jollibee's Buy 1 Take 1 promo-- jolly spag for only 42 pesos.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">yummy bit after jade's (student) pesky class.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">PASTA galore on pay day :-)<br /></div><div align="center"></div>felipe andreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00018309702578769076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197776979731621393.post-70373796414032298792010-03-23T04:26:00.001-07:002010-03-23T04:28:06.215-07:00The Status Quo<p align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K-2fhMisEGI/S6ilcaRaxVI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7G2e4MyJ3PI/s1600-h/Philippine%20Map.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451789256439285074" style="WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K-2fhMisEGI/S6ilcaRaxVI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7G2e4MyJ3PI/s320/Philippine%2520Map.gif" border="0" /></a></p><br /><br /><br /><br />I am a mixture of two racial flavors. My father came from the ethnic stock of domestic helpers and my mother from frugal industrialists. I was not born with blue pupils and was supposed to be born Chinky-eyed. It was not winter either when my parents celebrated the birth of my existence. I did not know myself, not until I saw my body-build—short, black-haired, and brown-skinned. The world filled with impartialities bestowed me my identity. I was told then that only one world was allotted for mankind, that only one domain was created for the offspring to multiply. However, the rays of the sun have shed luminousness. There is a third world, a world created by disparities. And no matter how often I close and open my eyes, the sun is too intense for the blatant fact. True, I am one of the 75 million who dwell in one of the 7,107 islands of a third world’s archipelago. Thanks be to Spaniards, Americans, and Japanese for giving me a nationality.<br /><br />I am in a country where foreign elements are never out of the ordinary. I hate to say this but my nation is such a tail of world’s crouching tigers. Ask the children of today what they want to do in the future. Three among the five of them would long to go abroad. Forgive them if they see a faint hope in this land for they are just the adherents of their parents who are engineers or doctors by profession but are made to be servants of foreign men. See the penetration of Filipino Diaspora. Passports have become a primary stipulation, illegal agencies have sprouted, and marriage contracts across cultures have been an assurance of well-off future. Yet no one can blame these people going overseas for they still want to eat three times a day and sleep in serenity. Somehow, getting out of the country is such a revolt, a revolt for a turtle-like progress.<br /><br /><br />Look at the whole shebang. Notice the giants in their towers led by a midget whose obsession to power will never step down. Politics is what satiates their appetite to prime seat. Blood is no waste at all. And yet inequitable justice can easily efface the stain in the name of the murderers. 57 clean-handed lives were taken out through carnage by the people who think they are worthy enough to be called valiant leaders, 31 journalists were ceased to string out the truth, but more voices will be heard as much as screams have become earsplitting.<br /><br />I am a Filipino. I feel outraged that my country has finally dislodged Iraq as the most dangerous country for journalists. I even once dreamt of becoming a potent catalyst for change, a watchdog of the irrational government. Yet a yellow backhoe would seem to have surrogated the swords of vindictive minds. Gunshots might not be heeded. But pen would still be the mightier; its blots will be as grimy as the plans of greedy.<br /><br />These days, the streets have been botched up with placards of lies and pretenses. Notable faces of promise-makers are displayed on TV screens. Each of them has shattered millions of pesos to back up the mass campaigns. See how speedy the government projects are being finished, because these are where our taxes go, perhaps a portion. And to avoid fraudulent voting, election automation has marked off the scene. This will remove the potential for human cheating, just as how often our teachers remind us that cheating is a crime. Yet criminals ought to be in jail, not in the palace or session house. Sabotage in keyboards will make a lot of sense, as problems in chairs are not even yet resolved. Tricksters are wise, good enough to betray our reliance and delude our innocence.<br /><br />It is going to be my first time to participate in the national elections. Yet it is never my first time to make a choice. Whether you are the great heroes’ son, real estate giant, gifted international lawyer, former president, religious leader, women rights advocate, tourism promoter, or a local lawmaker, trust is something I cannot just give easily even to my girlfriend. I once studied in an unfinished classroom, waited in the NSO for two days for an authenticated birth certificate, cried because of my stolen money, and for now, I hope to make even a bit of difference. Otherwise, I may pack my bags and line up for visa, just like what the six to seven million Filipinos did.<br /><br /> For once, I want to feel the way first-world citizens feel about their countries. I want to at least revitalize the principle of nationalism, just as when former President Carlos P. Garcia implemented the Filipino First Policy. At the end of the day, I want to see the short, black-haired, and brown-skinned citizens live with genuine Filipino identity.<br /><br />Cheers to the 15th president of the Republic of the Philippines.felipe andreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00018309702578769076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197776979731621393.post-23006045760129177032010-02-26T21:17:00.000-08:002010-02-26T21:21:42.799-08:00USeP Joins ABS-CBN News Casting Competition<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K-2fhMisEGI/S4iryYwAqaI/AAAAAAAAAB0/v6XFnlVblx0/s1600-h/peeec.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K-2fhMisEGI/S4iryYwAqaI/AAAAAAAAAB0/v6XFnlVblx0/s320/peeec.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442789031802874274" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br />In line with the celebration of its 21st anniversary in devoting public service, the ABS-CBN Broadcasting Corporation Regional Network Group- Davao marked another historical year as it initiated the first Interschool News Casting Competition in the region which commenced officially late last year. The said competition was participated in by ten (10) tertiary schools in Davao region, each with three (3) representatives after a school level elimination was conducted in the respective institutions slated on separate days. Only twelve (12) contenders out of more or less 400 college students who joined the school auditions competed during the grand finals held at SM Activity Center last February 20, 2010.<br /><br />USeP’s bet Janine Lou de Guzman, a fourth year Bachelor of Arts in English student, was among the twelve (12) chosen student newscasters who made it to the final match. Each of the finalists was given the opportunity to experience field reporting as well as TV news anchoring together with the anchors of the late afternoon’s local news program TV Patrol Southern Mindanao. All of them also underwent some workshops on news gathering and served as invitees in the network’s various radio broadcasts.<br /><br />On the final round, the contenders were split up into three groups where De Guzman who belonged to the second group vied with others in delivering the news items in three languages namely: English, Filipino, and Visayan. They were judged according to the following criteria: Delivery – 35%; Pronunciation and Diction – 30%; Voice Quality – 15%; Appearance on Cam – 15%’ and Overall Impact – 5%. Students from Ateneo de Davao University, University of Mindanao, and Holy Cross of Davao Colleges emerged as first, second, and third placers, respectively. Only the champion will have a news casting stint with the network.<br /><br />Prior to the grand finals, a semi-final playoff was held last January 21 and 22 at the same locale where the twelve favored finalists were chosen out of the thirty (30) contenders who were classified into brackets A and B. De Guzman who belonged to bracket B came out astonished as she was the last to be called to qualify for the final round. Prof. Rowena C. Nuera from the Language Department served as her coach.felipe andreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00018309702578769076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197776979731621393.post-61698239265847706832010-01-11T02:51:00.000-08:002010-01-11T04:52:50.287-08:00Retroverted :-)<a href="http://www.mygreatgrandfathers.com/webpostcard//pictures/happy%20new%20year%202010.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 265px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.mygreatgrandfathers.com/webpostcard//pictures/happy%20new%20year%202010.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://rlv.zcache.com/2010_happy_new_year_pink_ribbon_greeting_card_blue-p137703500567086879v1qr_500.jpg"></a><div><br /><br /></div><div>wait and wait...</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>i got busy for a trifle long time because of my "amenability quality". haha :D</div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /></div><div align="justify">it's 2010 and i hope this year will be a round-fruited year for all of us. and it's gonna be an important year for me because i'm going to take in my college diploma, such an evidence that i have been a good son to my parents (though they are physically unseeable), a good friend to my elementary, high school, and college friends, a good student to my teachers, mentors, instructors, and professors, a good citizen to Pinas, a good brother to my sibs, and above all, a good son to our Almighty God. *blushes* :D</div><div><br /><br /><br /> </div><div>so, may all of us receive a twofold increase of blessings. just continue to serve God and follow His will for us. :-)</div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /> </div><div>sae hae bok man i bad eu sae yo ^-^</div>felipe andreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00018309702578769076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197776979731621393.post-36916426353389153292009-12-23T04:25:00.000-08:002009-12-23T04:30:32.862-08:00Endpoint :(In Wordweb, 'endpoint' means the final point in a process. Perhaps, I should come to this final stage and face whatever pain in the ass it may create. I just don't want to wait for nothing.<br /><br /><br /><em>Adios</em> irrational being! I have my own world. I have my own Pandora where an Avatar like you is not meritorious to be accepted.<br /><br /><br /><br />Still, NUMBERS matter. :(felipe andreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00018309702578769076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197776979731621393.post-63907663651676195362009-12-18T04:24:00.000-08:002009-12-18T04:42:09.883-08:00The Nature of a Fabricated Literary CompetitionYes to showing of teeth...<br /><br />Yes to prepared Kwento Pro scenes...<br /><br />Yes to MUTE judges...<br /><br />Yes to "may connection" judges...<br /><br />Yes to time manipulation...<br /><br /><br />-o0o- -o0o- -o0o-<br /><br /><br /><em>Quoted:</em> "Please read the mechanics."<br /><br /><em>I say: </em>I have studied the boulevard. Everything written therein is slenderly different from what you have printed.<br /><br /><br /><em>you need workshop guys. be trained before you get into the battlefield.</em> :pfelipe andreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00018309702578769076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197776979731621393.post-34768906933367824432009-12-17T04:47:00.000-08:002009-12-17T06:00:57.132-08:00Thanks be to technology :-)<p align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K-2fhMisEGI/SyopmJ0WRnI/AAAAAAAAABM/t2IDCUixXcA/s1600-h/fresh+and+new.BMP"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416187237313693298" style="WIDTH: 190px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 142px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K-2fhMisEGI/SyopmJ0WRnI/AAAAAAAAABM/t2IDCUixXcA/s320/fresh+and+new.BMP" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K-2fhMisEGI/Syoo2odkdVI/AAAAAAAAABE/tTpAaZ1ML7Q/s1600-h/fresh+and+new.BMP"></a><br /><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K-2fhMisEGI/Syoo2fEqWOI/AAAAAAAAAA8/frig9-XBHrA/s1600-h/Jacob+1.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416186418385541346" style="WIDTH: 186px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 140px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K-2fhMisEGI/Syoo2fEqWOI/AAAAAAAAAA8/frig9-XBHrA/s320/Jacob+1.png" border="0" /></a></p><br /><div align="justify">I can't all the time put the blame on the outgrowing clout of technology. Without such, these pictures wouldn't be possible. Learning does not matter on distances. Cultural differences are not an incumbrance to attain what goes on inside the four corners of a classroom. This proves that learning is not confined.</div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">That Korean cute boy is Jacob, my favorite student after Pakon finally stopped. Jacob and I truly have a bond, a bond that continues to strengthen abridging our divergencies.</div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Indeed, I learn a lot from what I teach.<br /></div>felipe andreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00018309702578769076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197776979731621393.post-22536308079262501472009-12-17T04:26:00.000-08:002010-01-14T02:54:27.869-08:00Truth and Nothing but the Whole Truth<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K-2fhMisEGI/SyomNbme-zI/AAAAAAAAAAw/SI1rDUngB8k/s1600-h/apollo.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416183514055768882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 277px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K-2fhMisEGI/SyomNbme-zI/AAAAAAAAAAw/SI1rDUngB8k/s320/apollo.gif" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify">Phoebus Apollo is in Greek Mythology the god of truth and light. He is said to be the "most Greek of all gods". He is a beautiful figure in Greek poetry who delights Olympus as he plays on his golden lyre. Without an incertitude, Philip Andrew chooses him to be his archetype.<br /><br /><br /><em>It's nice to dream about and traverse the mythological world. :))</em></div>felipe andreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00018309702578769076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197776979731621393.post-72411720505267616222009-12-17T03:24:00.000-08:002009-12-17T03:28:19.446-08:00Mahiduol Ikaw ug Ako (Closer You and I)<div align="center">Oy, nagalutok sa mga mata</div><div align="center">Gugma sa unang tan-awKabahin ka sa damgo</div><div align="center">Wa na’y molabaw pa</div><div align="center">Pero din a ako makahulat</div><div align="center">Di malimtan ang imong paghiyum</div><div align="center">Sa kada pagpiyong nako</div><div align="center">Ikaw makita</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Sa pagpaduol nga magunitan ka</div><div align="center">Sa pagpaduol nga mabati ka</div><div align="center">Hatagi ug dugang pagtagad</div><div align="center">Kita magkadayon</div><div align="center">Kada simpleng hiyom</div><div align="center">Dala ang paglaum</div><div align="center">Sidlak sa mata</div><div align="center">Takna sa kalipay</div><div align="center">Hatagi ug dugang pagtagad</div><div align="center">Kita mahiduol</div><div align="center">Ikaw ug Ako</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Ako magmahal kanimo</div><div align="center">Labaw pa kaniadto</div><div align="center">Pero mura man ug damgo</div><div align="center">Wa na’y molabaw pa</div><div align="center">Nakita na nako ang kahigayonan</div><div align="center">Katawa mo mura ko’g mamatay</div><div align="center">Guniti ko ug ibutyag mo</div><div align="center">Magpabilin ka</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Sa pagpaduol nga magunitan ka</div><div align="center">Sa pagpaduol nga mabati ka</div><div align="center">Hatagi ug dugang pagtagad</div><div align="center">Kita magkadayon</div><div align="center">Kada simpleng hiyom</div><div align="center">Dala ang paglaum</div><div align="center">Sidlak sa mata</div><div align="center">Takna sa kalipay</div><div align="center">Hatagi ug dugang pagtagad</div><div align="center">Kita mahiduol</div><div align="center">Ikaw ug Ako</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><em>Translation Requisite in Eng 41</em></div>felipe andreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00018309702578769076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197776979731621393.post-63619219118363290432009-12-17T03:22:00.000-08:002009-12-17T03:24:34.972-08:00When heart starts to play..<div align="justify">It has always been a game with no assurance of winning. Many cried, rolled in the aisles, grinned, and doubted. And it does not only end with a past tense. Yes, it knows no time or age limit. It isn’t a doll or a robot played only by youngsters nor cockfight or lotto exercised mostly by elders. So long as your heart beats, you can get your own play. It is just so cynical that after you get lost a hundred times, you still want to grab the claim “I’ll play again”. No doubt, even if it may not be among the most commonly used words, it surely remains the most commonly abused.</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">For many people, it is a noun. Yet for those people like Jane who doesn’t have ample will to get on it, it remains a pronoun. An almost two years of leaving her feelings unspoken had inauspiciously brought such dilemma to Jane. She might have been bursting out into covert insanity but she never had opened her mouth and let her tongue speak in behalf of her heart. Love is not only blind, mute likewise. She kept her words for so long, but she was so careful she wasn’t able to swallow them. Months passed and yet revelation seemed to be unsuitable. She used to see the boy whom she thought felt the same way. If she could only have confessed her love, she could have known if her mind made the right forethought. But it may seem odd, she believed. The boy and she had an eight-year gap. Perhaps, she was already writing her home-reading report when the boy was still being taught on how to do the strokes of the English alphabet. Age doesn’t matter, she asserted. But it couldn’t be that way. It still matters at the end of the day. She couldn’t coerce him to stop playing ‘pellet gun’ nor convince him to hang out in a bar late at night. That’s his life. Let him act his age. Hence, she did not let anyone know her tackiness, for if she did, she might have felt ashamed of her being a lady. Yes, a lady who was tied up with the strands of affectionate regard wherein her single hope was to come out of her closet. For a guy? Young boy, she corrected. And her days submerged into befuddlement.</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">All of a sudden she realized: We are unparalleled. Obviously right. At any rate, was it her fault to choose a chick over a rooster? Jane didn’t have a choice either. The fact that it unknowingly grew within her heart and hallucinated her mind, she was ambushed. The boy also seemed irrational who would always end up with a hanging thought. The fact that he maybe fell in love with her despite their age breach and was also apprehensive to speak up— that’s what she didn’t know. She only thought. At the outset, actions were always giving them a clue. They were too close to be true, perchance. They would always converse about anything their minds would tell them, yet their hearts tended to pump more blood in order to catch up with their uneasiness when their eyes happened to meet at a single speck, by accident. He was one of her featured friends, she too in his. Thanks to Friendster it served as a tool. Cell phone as well did. Every bit of move would mean something their brain cells could hardly process. Every day would pass leaving questions unanswered. It was indeed love that she could have felt for a guy of her generation but she knew there was no pretense in what she sensed.</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Due to her status in life, Jane rapidly became busy. That made her live up with a thought of arrogance that she must serve her priorities. At one point, she wanted to show that she should not love the young boy anymore because he would only be a hitch in doing her purposes. Inhuman, that is. But after several attempts, she still couldn’t get away from him. Blame it on their distance because they felt like they were only inches away from each other. Constant dealing imprisoned her. She must move on as she always screamed out. But it seemed like she was kept alone to hear her grappling voice. She hoped as her tears fall down from her blunt eyes the feeling would come down with them. She wished it could be that easy. Nevertheless, her heart could only let blood out, not tears. Days went on. She also went on despairingly waiting. </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Time was so kind. Unnoticeably, she passed off it. Finally. Whether she got tired of waiting or was able to get over her affection, she didn’t know. Perhaps, she must leave it all there for it also started without giving a signal ‘GO’. They remained friends, and still do. The young boy never had spoken about anything. Should there be something to speak up? He alone knew it. He must have known that the game’s finally over. Jane declared it. The mere lesson she learned was that it does not take time to realize; one needs to realize that it takes time. It helps much. At the back of her mind, she recollected: Love and Game both contain same number of letters, are similarly monosyllabic. But one must have to know, she continued, that the former is more than just a game of fun where the only prize is experience.</div>felipe andreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00018309702578769076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197776979731621393.post-84695854179311156382009-12-14T00:09:00.000-08:002009-12-17T04:45:17.678-08:00A Scholarly Confession<p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"><?xml:namespace prefix = o /><o:p></o:p></p><p></p><p></p><p align="justify">Memorization, as they say, is the poorest form of learning. I find it hurtful then that I am into the poorest way. Most of my colleagues would say that I am "best in memorization" with the highlight "period to period". I do masticate explicitly what are printed on the textbooks and fact sheets. I do deposit any quotable statements to be my prefabricated patterns because I know they will incorporate magic to come up with notable codes. To wrap it up, I only rely on my personal scripts and thus I am no good when boxed into steep settings. These words alone, I have already dragged myself down to feel that I do not deserve what I am straining for.</p><p align="justify">Achievement be it in any corner is always at stake. People around would keep an eye on whatever you can and cannot do. If you are ahead, you tend to be followed. If you are behind, they tend to brush you off along the existing saga. No matter how intimidating it may seem like, it has always been the trend. With that, you start to fear not to fall or descend from the higher platform. Worse, no one perchance would dare to catch you if you happen to get out of balance. Comparison to term it is inevitable. And you cannot look forward to that in a competitive world like academe you only think of your own and must focus on your own foothold. Competition never gets its heart and soul with no recurring edges between the involved. That is what fences are made for—bound to have boundaries.</p><p align="justify">In a way, I feel sorry for my self. I feel like I have been working hard and yet people are only made to believe that it is always about gaining ground. It is not easy at all. My family is hoping that I could meet opportunity right after graduation to be able to provide sustenance to come across the day-to-day imperative needs. What if I couldn’t? Will that be soothed by “It’s okay.”? Funny, I find it. That’s why most of the realities in life are sore and what make us feel up are archetypal. Nevertheless, no one of us would let onerous conditions last. And I will always be the one to take pins and needles for my family even if I cannot always get the right stitch of good fortune.</p><p align="justify">After all, I don’t want to be ahead of my own persona. I mean there is always a room for improvements and I should and each of us consider such. Grades are only numerical values that are recorded down and computed to show how much you have done inside the proximity of the classroom. They don’t define totally how intelligent and erudite a person is because school lessons are only slices of our experiences. I major English language yet I am not in the authority to claim that I’m perfectly good in grammar. There is still no monopoly in using the language and so saying wrong grammar is somehow unjust and unfavorable. I even can’t use the language the way others use it. I neither cannot speak like Senator Miriam Defensor Santiago nor write like columnist Conrado de Quiros. I can only be myself. I don’t study when I’m tired and I even cram and it’s my choice at the end of the day. I toil for what I want and not for what I need.</p><p align="justify">I would just like to restate what my good friend once told me and it says: “You need to have a vision so that you won’t get tired of what you are doing.” Without a qualm, she’s right. It’s like a drug that diagnoses me after getting worn out. However, there’s something better than having a vision as what columnist and host Patricia Evangelista quoted from the speech of Butch Jimenez to the graduates of UP Diliman; "it’s having a cause". Anything that is pushed through is rooted from a desired ground. I strive hard not to place my head and shoulders above others but to make my family proud of me. I want them realize someday that at least I have done something good when I chose to become independent. And that is what keeps me up late at night to take hold of my lessons mentally even if they would say I have only memorized everything.</p><p>-Philip Andrew Garlitos-</p>felipe andreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00018309702578769076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197776979731621393.post-37253651912093225112009-12-10T04:55:00.000-08:002009-12-10T04:59:13.707-08:00mythology exam's aftermath"You teach the language, not about the language" -- ALL method. (reporters were not feeling well)felipe andreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00018309702578769076noreply@blogger.com0