It’s interesting to know what global style icon Sarah Jessica Parker brought home to New York last Friday, from Manila. She got some world-famous sweet dried mangoes and some stuff from Kultura, the contemporary Filipiniana store of SM.
Pinoy pride is at an all-time high. There truly are so many exciting and upbeat events happening in our country. Our economy is on the upswing and our tourism campaigns are paying off. All of us Pinoys are looking forward to brighter days ahead.
I’m working at a resort as a receptionist. I’m not in a relationship now because I just got out of one where I had an abusive boyfriend. I didn’t want to get involved again so soon after.
Sunday is the grand fiesta of Nuestra Señora de Guia, patroness of Ermita, thus commemorating the finding of the image on May 19, 1571, by a Spanish soldier when Adelantado Miguel de Legazpi landed in Manila.
Losing an election feels very much like the end of a relationship, complete with the anxiety, attendant heartbreak, sorrow and sleepless nights.
Isabel Echevarria has been painting portraits since 1983, when she was very young. She now lives in the Canary Islands (an integral part of Spain) where she draws inspiration from its climate and clear skies.
Save? Whatever for? The ticking of my own body clock tells me that my future is playing right now, and that spending, not saving, is what makes perfect sense. Free from responsibilities except to myself, it’s time to throw caution to the wind and make my remaining time worth it.
Do you have election hangover? I do. Have the campaign posters, placards and other campaign eyesores been pulled down? The victors may be too busy celebrating, and perhaps the losers couldn’t care less. They all should lend MMDA a helping hand, don’t you think?
Last February, I spent my 77th birthday in the ICU of the Asian Hospital, stricken with attacks of asthma and pneumonia, and worst, exacerbated by my fibrillating heartbeat. I felt like my lungs had frozen like a concrete slab.
My mother took up running as a sport at age 40. Several years later, my father died, and she became a widow at 47.
IT DIDN’T happen like in the movies or the way you thought it would happen—your father saying a tearful goodbye to your mother at her deathbed, then bringing her to her final resting place, and finally retreating into a period of grief.
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