By Darwin John Moises and Michelle Mendez-Palmares
Singlestalk

Michelle: If two weeks back we talked about the dilemma of divulging our feelings for another person, especially if that person is a friend, this time around we’ll talk on whether or not one should disclose to a friend that his or her partner and/or significant other is fooling around and cheating on him or her. Women have little or no compunction in telling their women friends that their boyfriends or husbands are cheating on them. Why? Because when women get together and talk, top topics include their boyfriends or husband; their grievances about them (how he again forgot their monthsary or anniversary) and other women, especially those who prey on the boyfriends or husbands of another. Men, on the other hand, don’t want to rat on their buddies. They don’t want to complicate things, so they’re pretty tight-lipped about these matters; you have to pry information like that almost literally out of their mouths. When men get together, they down bottles of beer, talk about sports (wow pare, did you see Manny Pacquiao’s mean left hook?), talk about women they’re not really serious with (wow pare, did you see her _______? (insert body part they’re partial to) but not talk about their serious relationships, or about their wives (for those who are married).

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By Dennisa Jane D. Pepito

ONE time I was riding a jeepney on my way home at past 7 p.m. Passing by Sto. Rosario Church, the jeepney stopped on a red light. Then a girl about six years old began to sing “Pasko na naman O kay tulin ng araw.” It’s almost Christmas, my most awaited season of the year.

The sight of the thin and rugged kid singing Christmas carols to passengers broke my heart. I could see in her face that she was tired and hungry.

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By Michelle Varron
In Other Words

YOUR favorite perky beverage may stimulate you in the middle of the day, but could it be an ambassador of, uh, world peace?

There are many stories on how coffee came about. But since we live at a time of religious dissent, I thought it appropriate to draw out the one with religious color.

A Muslim dervish was once left in the desert to wander till he died (www.starbucks.com) and then in his dying euphoria he heard a voice telling him to eat the fruit of a coffee tree. The confusion led him to boil the beans in water in an attempt to soften them, but then he just gave up and drank the liquid. The energy he got from this fluid, he thought, was a sign of God and he went on to preach about coffee and his faith.

Coffee came from Muslim countries and then traveled to Europe and the rest of the world by trade. I think this as important because now I watch the news and I see a very different world. I see a Pope who is clear about who can and cannot be saved—a pontiff who is refreshingly blunt about his views, and is carving his place as a leader who causes dissent by asking the difficult, but ultimately right, questions. I think about the dervish and drink my coffee and I feel I can postpone those questions.

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By Carmelo D. Lariosa

Definitely the argument
Is in the heart of the clown, and not
Like those dumpsites the odor
Of living has become
Significant to endure
For the lifeless.

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By Michelle Ferraren-Gulla

STARTING out in college has not always been easy to most people. Ask some professionals you know today. Some of them might say they blend in easily or made friends right away, or became Miss Popular or Mr. President in two weeks time. Some people�s names are easily remembered, called by classmates across the hall. Sometimes there are physically distinctive marks or personality quirks that makes one famous for it that classmates just fondly remembers the distinction and later by the name. But some are faces in the corners with which are fondly called “What’s your name again?”

My first year in college was a struggle. It was not a struggle of academic obstacles, surprise quiz, oral reports and projects. It was a struggle to keep my chin up despite the confidence-draining day-to-day events inside the campus.

My thoughts keep on whispering “Do I really belong here?” I seem to be the only one different or having difficulties with the adjustments. While every step away from my home is a toiling thing to do, it seemed all my classmates just love to stay at school and do the board work. Every trip back home is a celebration and I have always enjoyed the ride, memorized all the buildings, the traffic, the smells of every corner, the kind of people I sit with at the PUJ. Agonizing Sunday afternoons and long awaited Friday nights were what�s in my calendar. It seemed exaggerated, doesn’t it? But it was real.

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