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Showing posts from February, 2018

Thank You CTU, My Home

It has been seven months since I was hired to my first ever "legitimate" job. Though I was connected to various companies before my university graduation, the feels are just really different when I do not need to juggle my studies and work. As what I have said in my before, I never really imagined myself teaching a class. I might be training some students for press conferences, teaching as a profession did not really come to my mind when I was still planning my life ahead. In fact, I thought I will be working on a corporate set-up: meeting some clients, writing copies for ad work, and socializing on a company-sponsored event. But destiny has another route for me. To be honest, it was not really a bad decision to take a different course. Going back home and sharing my knowledge to the students of my hometown has been the best thing that happened to me. All these will not happen without my beloved Cebu Technological University - Barili Campus. The Start of My Jour

A Love Letter That'll Last Forever

(This letter was submitted to Marco Polo's Love Letter Writing Contest this year. It did not win, but I just want to share what I have written. Enjoy!) 03 February 2018 Oh Romeo, akong Romeo, Ang gugma dili muhukom kung kinsa ang duyugan sa pagbati sa usa ka tawo. Wala naman lang gyud nako damha nga kitang duha magkadayon. Tinuod man gyud diay nga mupana na lamang si Kupido sa atoa. Makapamalikas na man lang ta og ahat kay dili ko andam sa panghitabo kaniadto. Kinsa ra man gud ko? Usa ra man ko ka pakyas nga mambabalak nga nangayo sa imong atensyon kaniadto. Daw langit ug yuta ang atong gintang sa usa'g usa kaniadto. Linghod ang akong panghuna-huna. Ang imuha kay hamtong. Aduna ka'y plano sa imong kaugmaon. Eskwela ug pagduwa ang adlaw-adlaw kong pagabuhaton. Apan kaniadtong naabot ka sa akong kinabuhi, daw nausab ang tanan. Nabutangan og kahulogan ang akong kinabuhi. Pila na ka tuig naman sad diay ang nilabay. Upat na ka tuig tang miduyog sa musika

Why We Should Not Let Press Conferences Dictate Our Identity

When I was young, I was mesmerized by the "talking" box called television. Every 6:30 in the evening, I always sit in front of our 14" TV and tune in to the newscast of TV Patrol. It has gone a lot of changes through the years. We have seen the changes in its logo, sound bed, name, and even hosts. This show has defined not just my childhood, but also my identity. Who would have thought that a seven-year-old child will be hooked up to just watching to an hour and a half newcast of people standing and talking? I do not really know. These people have molded the person that I am now. Their news broadcasts and tone is soothing to my ears. Their postures just pleasing to my eyes. Maybe I am just crazy when I was a child? This is the reason why I was really excited when my English teacher in high school approached me and asked if I could be one of our school's sports writer for the upcoming Area Schools Press Conference (SPC) that year. I consider myself nerdy, no