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  • What I Learned from My Sister-in-Law

    October 28, 2026
    Life & Love

    I am still grieving the loss of my sister-in-law, Amie, but I find comfort in knowing how deeply loved she was; not only by her friends but even by people who had only met her.

    Seventeen years ago, when my mother passed away, Amie was devastated, too. Mama had treated her like her own child, and I believe that the love she received from Mama left a lasting impression on her. I remember being fascinated by Mama’s wide circle of friends, and perhaps some of that rubbed off on Amie. As she grew older, she became more comfortable meeting new people and building friendships of her own. She also never failed to check on us regularly, making sure that the people she cared about knew they were remembered.

    Looking back, I realize that this was one of the things I may have forgotten about my mother. I became so preoccupied with building a life for my own family that I had very little time or energy left to reach out to others. With young children to raise and a demanding career to manage, maintaining friendships and keeping in touch with family often took a backseat.

    I don’t think I became distant because I didn’t care. I had my own struggles to work through, responsibilities to fulfill, and dreams I wanted to achieve. Like many people, I thought that once I had built a more comfortable life, I would have more time to enjoy it with the people around me.

    But losing Amie made me realize something: life doesn’t wait for us to finish sorting everything out. While we are busy chasing our dreams, solving our problems, and trying to secure a better future, time continues to move forward. Before we know it, years have passed, and the finish line we have been chasing has moved a little farther away.

    There is nothing wrong with wanting a better life. We work hard because we want to provide for our families, give our children a better future, and enjoy the fruits of our labor someday. But perhaps we sometimes forget that we don’t have to wait until we have achieved everything before we start living.

    We can build our dreams while nurturing friendships. We can pursue our careers while making time for family. We can work toward a better future without forgetting the people who are part of our present.

    This is what changed in me when I lost my beloved sister-in-law. I want to be more intentional about spending time with my family and friends, reaching out to people I care about, and perhaps even building new friendships along the way.

    I want to stop postponing the simple joys of being with the people who matter while waiting for life to become less complicated.

    Because in the end, a good life is not measured only by what we have achieved, what we have accumulated, or how far we have come. It is also measured by the people we have loved, the friendships we have nurtured, and the moments we have shared.

    And perhaps the greatest lesson Amie has left me is this: don’t spend so much time building a life that you forget to live it with the people you love.

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  • Should Alden Richards Speak About the Allegations Against Him?

    October 26, 2026
    That’s Entertainment

    One thing I have learned in life is that when a lie is repeated often enough, people eventually begin to believe it as the absolute truth.

    Growing up, we were taught to ignore rumors because the truth would eventually come out. But I think this advice is becoming outdated, especially in an age of social media, widespread misinformation, and declining critical thinking.

    Today, people are quick to believe what they read without verifying the information, examining the evidence, or questioning the motives behind the accusations. Some would rather believe a juicy controversy than take the time to determine whether there is any truth to it.

    This is precisely why critical thinking matters.

    We should not automatically believe an allegation simply because it is repeated by numerous people. We should ask questions: What is the evidence? Is the source credible? Are there facts to support the claim, or are we merely reacting to speculation? Most importantly, are we forming our own conclusions, or are we simply allowing others to dictate what we should believe?

    Being a good person is not always enough to protect your reputation. Sometimes, silence allows misinformation to spread unchecked, leaving people to form opinions based on incomplete or misleading information.

    So, should Alden Richards speak about the allegations against him? I believe he should consider addressing them if they are serious enough to threaten his credibility or if the misinformation is causing significant damage to his reputation.

    However, I also believe that there should be a balanced standard for speaking up.

    Not every rumor deserves a response, and not every accusation warrants a public explanation. Sometimes, responding to baseless speculation only gives it more attention and credibility. There are also situations where silence is a legitimate exercise of one’s right to privacy, particularly when allegations are unsubstantiated or when speaking publicly could compromise legal proceedings.

    The standard, therefore, should not be that a person must always defend themselves, nor that silence is always the best response. Rather, the decision to speak should depend on the seriousness of the allegations, the credibility of the claims, the extent of the misinformation, and the potential consequences of remaining silent.

    If a public statement is necessary, it should be factual, measured, and proportionate to the issue. The objective should be to clarify the facts, correct misinformation, and protect one’s reputation—-not to win a public argument or silence legitimate criticism.

    Equally important, speaking up does not automatically make someone innocent, just as remaining silent does not automatically make someone guilty. Both accusations and denials should be examined critically, based on evidence rather than assumptions.

    We must learn to distinguish between facts and speculation, criticism and character assassination, and legitimate concerns and attempts to manipulate public opinion.

    Ultimately, the issue is not simply whether Alden should speak or remain silent. The bigger issue is whether we, as an audience, are still capable of thinking critically instead of blindly accepting whatever narrative is presented to us.

    We must hold ourselves to the same standard we expect from others: verify information before sharing it, question claims before accepting them, and remain open to evidence that challenges our existing beliefs.

    Because the truth should never be determined by how many times a story is repeated, how many people believe it, or how sensational it sounds.

    The truth should be determined by evidence, our judgments should be guided by critical thinking, and our decisions about when to speak or remain silent should be guided by reason rather than pressure from public opinion.

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  • Missing Amie

    October 22, 2026
    Life & Love

    It’s been two weeks since my sister-in-law passed away, and we are still grieving her loss. We knew she had been battling lupus for 19 years, but knowing about her illness was different from imagining a world without her. We knew she was fighting, but we never thought her fight would end two weeks ago.

    Our relationship was not particularly close during our younger years. We first met during my grandmother’s wake, at a time when I was already struggling with the thought of forming new friendships. Four years later, I lost my own mother, and once again, I found myself dealing with grief while trying to navigate relationships. I was also busy building my own family and pursuing my career. Living in separate provinces made it even more difficult for us to develop a closer bond.

    Still, I had always regarded her as family because she was my brother’s wife and my niece’s mother.

    When lupus entered her life, I silently prayed for her healing. My niece was only two and a half years old then, and I could not help but think of the little girl who needed her mother. I prayed even harder from December 2020 to January 2021, when my sister-in-law became critically ill. Thankfully, she survived that difficult time. From then on, I made it a point to include her in my prayers every day. She eventually became the number one person on my prayer list.

    Looking back, time seemed to move so quickly. Our 21st year as sisters-in-law turned out to be the most beautiful chapter of our relationship. This year, we even started making plans for our retirement, imagining the years ahead and the things we could still look forward to together.

    It never occurred to me that she might leave us before I did. Perhaps, because she had survived so much, I had grown accustomed to thinking that she would continue to be there. I knew she had lupus, but somewhere in my heart, I had made room for a future where she would grow old with us.

    That was the future I wanted for her.

    I never imagined that the best chapter of our relationship would also be its last.

    There is something particularly painful about realizing that the years when you finally grew closer to someone were also the years you had the least time left with them. Just when we were beginning to make plans for the future, that future was taken away from us.

    I used to wonder how losing an in-law could hurt so much. I understood the grief of losing someone related to you by blood, but I had not fully understood that family could also be formed through the years we shared, the prayers we offered, and the affection that quietly grew between us.

    I thought I loved her because she was my brother’s wife and my niece’s mother. But as the days passed after her death, I began to understand that I loved her for who she was, beyond the roles she held in our family. She had become someone I wanted to keep in my life, someone I had hoped to share more years with.

    If there is another life, and if my brother and she are meant to find each other again, I hope I will be given another chance to be part of their story, too.

    This time, I would use those 21 years more wisely. I would not wait for the right moments to become closer, nor assume that there would always be more time. I would want to fill the ordinary days with conversations, laughter, and memories that we could carry into old age.

    Because now I understand that sometimes, you only realize how precious a chapter was when you reach its final page.

    Our story as sisters-in-law may have ended, but I will always be grateful that, somewhere along the way, we found our way to each other.

    And if life had given us another book, I would have gladly read every page with her.

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  • A Love That Lived at a Distance

    September 23, 2026
    Life & Love

    My uncle, my mother’s youngest brother, passed away on the night of September 21st.

    He had been ill since 2022, suffering from complications of diabetes. His quality of life gradually deteriorated over the years following his stroke.

    Growing up, he was abroad for work. He retired about ten years ago and divided his time between Balanga and Camarines Sur, his wife’s province. One thing I realized after he passed was that I could probably count on my fingers the number of times I had actually seen him.

    He was practically absent during my childhood and teenage years. By the time I reached adulthood, our connection had become more about receiving updates about his health condition than sharing moments together.

    That is why the time we spent together at a resort in 2022 remains memorable to me. It was probably the first time my brothers and I genuinely bonded with him and his family. It was a simple gathering, but looking back now, it meant more than I realized at the time.

    Because despite the distance, despite the years we spent apart, I had always carried him quietly in my heart.

    Perhaps that was how my mother loved him, too. Even when they had misunderstandings, even when life kept them apart, he remained her brother. The love was still there, even when it wasn’t always expressed.

    And maybe that is something I understand more clearly now: it is possible to love family from a distance.

    The distance between us was not because we did not love each other. It was simply the kind of family arrangement we had grown accustomed to—the way life happened, the way work and circumstances took people to different places, and the way years could pass without seeing someone you still considered family.

    Sometimes, love does not look like constant presence.

    Sometimes, it is simply remembering someone, carrying them quietly in your heart, and knowing that even from a distance, they were always part of your life.

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  • The Rise of the AI Mafias

    September 8, 2026
    That’s Entertainment

    During my free time, I sometimes watch AI-generated stories on TikTok about mafias and powerful families. At my age, I know how to regulate myself and see them for what they are: entertainment and fantasy.

    Because, to be honest, what is there to admire about the mafia? They torture, they kill, and they intimidate people in their pursuit of power and money. Yet somehow, these stories can be incredibly addictive.

    A lot of women I know are hooked on them, too. And somehow, I began to realize that perhaps there is a particular female fantasy behind their popularity: the fantasy of having an alpha male who protects you.

    What’s addictive about these AI stories is not necessarily the mafia itself, but the way the male protagonists are portrayed. They are tall, masculine, extremely attractive, powerful, wealthy, and feared by everyone. They may be ruthless toward the rest of the world, but when it comes to the woman they love, they become fiercely protective and devoted.

    Perhaps that is the fantasy; the idea that a powerful man can handle the dangers of the world, while you are the one person he would protect at all costs.

    It made me think of my mother.

    When she was my age, she read Mills & Boon pocketbooks. The romantic fantasy of her generation came through those little books: handsome men, powerful families, forbidden love, wealth, and dramatic relationships.

    Now, perhaps, it is AI-generated TikTok stories taking over.

    The medium has changed, but perhaps the fantasy hasn’t changed that much.

    There is, however, one thing I don’t like about these stories: how easily accessible and algorithmically driven TikTok can be. Unlike traditional television, where programs generally go through established ratings and classification systems, short-form content on social media can appear very quickly and repeatedly in a young person’s feed.

    That concerns me when the audience is underage girls who are still developing their understanding of relationships, morality, and consequences.

    Mafia stories often romanticize vengeance, possessiveness, violence, and ruthlessness. For an adult who understands that these are fictional fantasies, it may simply be escapism. But for a young girl who is still figuring out what love, power, and relationships are supposed to look like, repeated exposure to these stories can blur the line between what is dramatic and what is actually healthy or moral.

    I don’t think children need to be completely sheltered from every dark story. But I do think they need the maturity to understand the difference between a fantasy that is entertaining and a behavior that should never be admired in real life.

    Maybe that’s the real difference between my mother’s Mills & Boon and today’s AI mafia stories.

    My mother had to open a book to enter her fantasy.

    Today’s girls only have to open TikTok.

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  • School Shootings in the Philippines

    August 22, 2026
    Filipino Culture, Life & Love

    School shootings have long been associated more strongly with countries such as the United States than with the Philippines. Yet whenever a shooting involving students, teachers, or school personnel occurs, one uncomfortable question inevitably follows: Why does a young person reach a point where killing another person becomes an acceptable response to anger, humiliation, or grievance?

    It is tempting to reduce the issue to gun ownership. But that explanation is incomplete. There have always been Filipino families who owned firearms, and most children who grew up around guns never used them to threaten, hurt, or kill anyone. The presence of a weapon matters because it can make violence more lethal, but the weapon alone does not explain why someone decides to use it.

    One factor worth examining is the possibility that the psychological barrier to violence is becoming lower for some young people. This does not mean that an entire generation is becoming violent or morally worse. Most young people exposed to bullying, rejection, anger, or violent media will never become violent themselves. However, the environment in which today’s teenagers develop is fundamentally different from that of previous generations.

    Young people are now exposed to graphic violence, humiliation, threats, revenge narratives, and online communities on an unprecedented scale. Violence is no longer something they encounter only in movies or television. It can appear repeatedly in social media feeds, videos, online discussions, games, and communities where extreme ideas can be reinforced. Repeated exposure does not automatically create violent behavior, but it can potentially make violence feel less psychologically distant. When violence is repeatedly portrayed as a means of gaining power, settling scores, or getting revenge, the idea of using violence may gradually become less unthinkable to someone who is already psychologically vulnerable.

    Another major difference is the nature of bullying and humiliation.

    Bullying has always existed. A student could be mocked in the classroom, excluded by classmates, or humiliated in front of friends. But traditionally, there was at least a physical boundary to the experience. A child could leave school, go home, and have some distance from the people who had embarrassed him.

    That boundary has largely disappeared.

    Today, humiliation can continue through Messenger, Facebook, TikTok, group chats, comments, and private messages. An embarrassing incident can be recorded, shared, screenshotted, and replayed. A student who was humiliated at school may continue experiencing that humiliation long after leaving the campus. What used to be an isolated incident can become a 24-hour social experience.

    For an emotionally immature teenager, this can be devastating. Adolescents can experience social rejection and humiliation with extraordinary intensity. What an adult might perceive as an unpleasant but temporary event may feel, to a teenager, like a catastrophic loss of status, dignity, or belonging.

    But humiliation alone does not explain extreme violence. The more important question is what happens after the humiliation.

    Some young people process pain by seeking support, talking to someone, withdrawing temporarily, or eventually moving on. Others may begin constructing a narrative around their suffering: Everyone is against me. Nobody understands me. They deserve what is coming to them. They will pay for what they did.

    This is where grievance and revenge become particularly important.

    There is a psychological difference between saying, “I was hurt,” and believing, “They must suffer because they hurt me.” The first is an expression of pain. The second transforms pain into justification.

    When a young person begins to define himself primarily through grievance—through the belief that he is constantly victimized, rejected, humiliated, or persecuted—anger can become part of his identity. Revenge may then begin to feel less like an impulsive act and more like a form of justice.

    The internet can make this process more complicated.

    In the past, a teenager with an extreme or violent thought might have had very few people with whom to discuss it. He might have been forced to confront the thought alone and recognize that it was disturbing or unacceptable.

    Today, he can potentially find people online who will validate his anger.

    This does not mean that online communities cause school shootings. They do not. But they can sometimes provide reinforcement for distorted thinking. A person who already believes that the world is against him may find others who tell him that his anger is justified. A thought such as “I hate them” can gradually become “They are all evil.” And “I want them to suffer” can become “They deserve whatever happens to them.”

    That shift is important because violence often requires more than anger. It requires some degree of moral disengagement—a process through which another person stops being seen as someone whose life has value and instead becomes an enemy who supposedly deserves punishment.

    Adolescence itself also matters.

    Teenagers are capable of sophisticated reasoning. They can understand complicated social issues, debate morality, and make surprisingly mature decisions. But the adolescent brain is still developing, particularly in areas related to impulse control, emotional regulation, and the evaluation of long-term consequences.

    This does not mean teenagers are incapable of knowing right from wrong. They absolutely can.

    It means that intense emotions can sometimes overwhelm judgment in ways that are less likely in a psychologically mature adult.

    There is an enormous difference between “I hate my teacher” and “I am going to school tomorrow to kill my teacher.” A normal moment of anger does not automatically evolve into homicidal intent. There are multiple psychological steps between the two.

    That is precisely why prevention cannot begin only when someone is already holding a weapon.

    We need to pay attention to the escalation that can occur beforehand: persistent humiliation, social isolation, obsessive grievance, revenge fantasies, fascination with previous attacks, threats, violent ideation, and the increasing belief that violence is justified. None of these signs, by themselves, mean that a teenager will become a school shooter. Most troubled young people will never commit violence.

    But when several of these factors converge—particularly when combined with access to a lethal weapon—the risk becomes much more serious.

    This is also why the conversation about school shootings should not become a simplistic argument about whether guns are the cause.

    A firearm can dramatically increase the consequences of a violent decision. Restricting access, securing firearms properly, and preventing children from obtaining them are therefore extremely important. But removing the weapon does not necessarily remove the grievance, the hatred, the desire for revenge, or the psychological process that produced the violent intention in the first place.

    Likewise, focusing exclusively on bullying misses part of the problem. Bullying has existed for generations. What has changed is the environment surrounding it: social media, constant connectivity, permanent digital humiliation, online reinforcement, and unprecedented access to violent content and communities.

    The Philippines should therefore be careful not to dismiss school shootings as something that could “never happen here.” The cultural context is different, and the frequency of such incidents may be far lower than in countries where school shootings have become a recurring phenomenon. But rarity does not mean impossibility.

    The goal should not be to label today’s teenagers as a violent generation. That would be both unfair and inaccurate.

    Instead, we should ask a more difficult question: What happens when an emotionally vulnerable young person experiences humiliation, develops a grievance, finds an online environment that reinforces his anger, begins to see revenge as justice, and eventually gains access to a lethal weapon?

    That combination is far more important than any single factor.

    Preventing school violence therefore requires more than simply telling children to be good. It requires schools that take bullying and threats seriously, parents who pay attention to dramatic changes in behavior, adults who are willing to intervene when a young person becomes consumed by revenge, responsible control and storage of firearms, and communities that do not normalize violent fantasies as merely teenage drama.

    Most angry teenagers will grow up, move on, and forget the people who once embarrassed them.

    The danger lies in the minority who do not move on—those who turn humiliation into grievance, grievance into hatred, hatred into revenge, and revenge into a justification for violence.

    And perhaps that is where the conversation about school shootings should begin.

    Not with the question, “Why did he have a gun?” but with the much harder question: “What happened inside this young person that made killing seem like an acceptable answer?”

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  • Loved, But Not Chosen

    August 14, 2026
    Life & Love

    I tend to read my old blog entries from time to time—not just for nostalgia, but to see whether I have actually progressed as a person.

    I want to look at the problems that once consumed me through the eyes of the woman I am now. Did I become wiser? Did I heal? Or did I simply learn to carry the same wounds differently?

    This time, I found myself thinking about one of my exes.

    We had a seven-year rollercoaster of a relationship that eventually ended in a breakup. It was more painful than my first breakup because, by then, I was ready for a future. I was financially and emotionally prepared to build a life with someone.

    So when almost seven years suddenly seemed to have no future, it was difficult to accept.

    There were flaws and red flags in the relationship, yes. But I stayed committed. I believed that commitment meant staying and working through things.

    The breakup came after a major fight about where the relationship was heading. The last four years had been long-distance, but we were still much like any other couple. We saw each other on weekends whenever we could. We talked. We made plans. We continued being part of each other’s lives.

    That was probably why I was so blindsided.

    There was a tiny part of me that continued to believe the relationship could still be saved. Maybe that was denial. Maybe it was hope. At the time, I couldn’t tell the difference.

    It took me a year after the breakup before I started dating again.

    A year later, I met the man who would become my husband.

    Meeting him eventually swept away the romantic feelings I still had for my ex. But it did not immediately erase the pain. Those are two different things. I could stop loving someone and still carry the hurt they left behind.

    Because my ex and I had common friends and acquaintances, I continued to hear bits and pieces about his life—usually unintentionally. For years, there were still moments when I would get angry, especially when I discovered things he had done while we were still together that I hadn’t known about at the time.

    It took me about ten years to finally return something that had remained with me from that relationship: his family’s old photo album.

    He had asked me to keep those photographs when we were still together. Years later, both of us were married. I thought about his family seeing those pictures again—the ex as a young boy—and realized that the album no longer belonged with me.

    I didn’t want his physical address, so I digitized the photographs, sent them by email, and threw the album away.

    It was a strangely symbolic thing to do.

    I wasn’t returning the photographs because I wanted him back.

    I wasn’t returning them because I was still in love.

    I was simply returning something that no longer belonged to me.

    By then, the romantic love was gone. Most of the pain was gone, too. What remained were occasional triggers whenever I heard something about the relationship that I hadn’t known before.

    And now, nineteen years after the breakup, I realize something I couldn’t have understood when I was younger.

    It was wrong for me to assume that he never loved me.

    I think I used to believe that if someone truly loved you, they would inevitably choose you. So if he didn’t choose me, then perhaps the love itself must have been fake.

    I don’t believe that anymore.

    Loving someone and choosing someone as your life partner are two different things.

    A person can love you and still not see a future with you.

    Perhaps he had a vision of the kind of life and partner he wanted, and I didn’t fit that vision. I used to take that personally. Today, I don’t.

    Because I have learned something else about myself.

    When I was young, I believed that love was enough to make a relationship survive. I was loyal. I was committed. I showed up for the people I loved. I spoke and acted according to my values.

    But being a loyal person does not guarantee that the people you love will have the same definition of loyalty.

    Being committed does not mean the other person is equally committed.

    And having strong values does not mean that someone else will share those values—even if that person is kind, decent, or someone you love deeply.

    That may be why two people can love each other and still clash repeatedly.

    We don’t just bring love into relationships.

    We bring our definitions of commitment, family, responsibility, loyalty, sacrifice, money, success, and the future.

    Sometimes, those definitions don’t fit.

    That is something I understand now that I didn’t understand then.

    Love is not enough to be chosen.

    There has to be a vision for the future.

    Looking back, I can see the difference in how I met my husband. Our courtship was a whirlwind. There was a quick engagement, and we were married in less than a year.

    It wasn’t necessarily the length of time that made the difference.

    It was that there was love—and there was a clear intention to build a future together.

    That distinction matters to me now.

    I no longer need to decide whether my ex loved me enough. I don’t need to rewrite seven years of my life as either a great love or a terrible mistake.

    It was a relationship that mattered.

    It simply wasn’t the future we ended up choosing.

    And perhaps that is the part of my younger self I finally know how to comfort.

    She wasn’t foolish for believing in love.

    She was simply too young to understand that love, by itself, doesn’t always tell you where two people are going.

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