Almost one full academic year after I left my previous school and returned to my Alma Mater, I just realized how far I have gone.
One year ago, I didn't have any inkling that the nights I spent crying in silence would lead me back to an old dream I almost left in oblivion.
I have a very special bond with my students back in LP. And somehow a part of me is still wishing to have them as learners in a subject I'm teaching.
But love can only do so much. Above the affection for any student is the feeling of ease and belongingness when the bell rings
One chapter has to end in order for a new one to be written. And one has to understand that the latter does not necessarily equate to a continuation of the stories, dreams, and aspirations set in the former.
In 1974, in a gallery in Naples, Italy, performance artist Marina Abramović did something no one was prepared for. She stood completely still. Silent. Motionless. Beside her, on a table, were 72 objects. Some were harmless—a rose, perfume, bread. Others were dangerous—scissors, chains, a scalpel… and a loaded gun. A sign read:
“You may use any object on me. I will not resist. I take full responsibility.”
For six hours, she became an object. At first, the crowd was gentle. Someone placed a flower in her hand. Someone kissed her cheek. Then something changed. Her clothes were cut. Her skin was scratched by thorns. Blood appeared. People stopped seeing her as a human being. One person cut her neck just to watch the blood flow. Another took the gun, placed it in her hand, and pointed it at her own head. Others intervened to prevent it from going any further. Marina did not react. She did not cry. She did not move. She allowed the crowd to decide how far it would go.
When the six hours ended, she stepped forward. Alive. Bleeding. Human again. And that was the moment the crowd collapsed. People ran away. Avoided her gaze. Unable to face what they had done.
The performance was called Rhythm 0. It was never repeated—not because it failed, but because it proved something terrifying: when responsibility is removed… when permission is given… ordinary people are capable of extraordinary cruelty. And all it takes is silence.
Source:
Marina Abramović: The Artist Is Present by Marina Abramović
I miss the stage and dressing up as a character.
I miss the silence my voice commands as soon as I start opening my mouth to utter my lines.
I miss the warmth of the stage lights and the nervous exhilaration it gives me each time it hits my body.
"Okay lang naman yan kung inamats mo yung bible wala kaming problema , kasi nung nag drodroga ka nga di ka namin jinudge eeh tapos nung nag bago ka kami ijujudge mo"
HAHAHAHAHAHAAHHA WILMAAAAA 🤣🤣
Filipinos subscribed to this thread are really something. Kaya di umuunlad ang Pilipinas. Ang daming bobo.
They're being presented with an opportunity to learn and empathize, but they always end up resorting to their toxic ways.
‘I FOUGHT HARD AND STILL FIGHTING UP UNTIL NOW’
Beauty queen Rabiya Mateo opened up about her mental health and shared that she was diagnosed with depression and anxious distress in 2025.
“I left the country for 3 months so I won’t get triggered by people who have no idea what I’ve been going through. Everyday was a struggle to survive. I almost deactivated everything and disappear to have a quiet and peaceful life,” she wrote in a Facebook post on Saturday.
Mateo also reflected on the grief that her former “TikToClock” co-host, Kim Atienza, went through following the passing of his daughter, Emman Atienza.
“[I] I made a promise to myself to never give up because I [don’t] want my Mama to experience the same thing. You don’t know how little kindness mean to a depressed person like me and how your words can push me to do something else.” she added.