A few days ago, the most prestigious university in the country released the list of accepted applicants for AY 2012-2013. Of the more than 50,000 applicants, less than a fifth passed. Many take the test, only a chosen few get in. This particular university is among the last of the schools to release their entrance exam results, after they were held late last year. In between the test and the results is a desolate land filled with fear, hope, anticipation, desire. Breaths are held and fingers are crossed in this limbo. Such is the rite of passage for the majority of high school seniors.
I was ecstatic that my sister passed all four schools and gotten into the courses she had applied to. The suspense is over, and now the difficulty of making a choice that will potentially change her life forever is at hand. She hasn’t made a final decision yet, but we all know her heart is set. Except for maybe my brother, who wants me to persuade/force/influence my sister to take up a “practical” course. Acceptable choices include Management Engineering, Business Administration, and Accounting. A BS, rather than the less profitable BA. Courses that will make money. Courses with a bottom line and a corner office. Courses with a “future”.
It's more fun in the Philippines
Much has been said about the Philippines’ new tourism campaign, but allow me to join in the *ahem* fun. It’s been three days since the Department of Tourism launched the new campaign, igniting a passionate debate both against and in defense of #ItsMoreFunInThePhilippines. I always enjoy talking about politics, but when criticism stops being constructive and becomes destructive, it’s no longer a healthy discussion, is it? Obviously, I am #1ForFun, and I’d like to tell you why.
When you look back on 2011, I hope you look back with love.
2011 was when you spent three hours walking around the city, searching for an obscure pizzeria that only he had ever heard of (and which you suspect no longer exists, if it ever really did). The side streets seemed like some lost and unknown kingdom, and you two were there to uncover its secrets. Or maybe just each other’s secrets. You talked and talked and talked, and it felt like you would never run out of things to say. An endless stretch of sidewalk and a nonstop stream of conversation, and you didn’t even give a fuck about the pizza.
2011 was when you locked eyes across the dark, crowded room, and you just knew that he and you would be something special. You were so busy falling all over the dance floor that you didn’t even notice you were falling in love, under the strobe lights and booming bass. “I looked at you and I knew I had to meet you,” he said. So he did. And from the first time your hands touched, there was that electric feel that seemed to warm you from your toes to your nose. It was maybe the first time you ever truly believed in destiny, because how else could you explain it: you could have been anywhere. And yet there you were.
I’m quite a forgetful person. I forget small things – grocery items, phone numbers, where I put my pen. I’ve forgotten the name of my elementary PhysEd teacher (who didn’t like me very much, even though it’s really not my fault that I wasn’t born a natural athlete). I’ve forgotten the name of that floating restaurant in Hong Kong with the yummy crabs. Don’t worry, I remember important things.
Or do I.