Haring Alabel

Sometimes, I need to hibernate. My sleeping pattern hasn’t been normal since 2017, the same year I started drinking coffee regularly. Back then, it felt harmless, even necessary. Coffee became a tool to survive long days, tight deadlines, and the constant need to be present, productive, and dependable. One cup turned into a habit, and the habit quietly rewired my sense of rest. Since then, nights have lost their boundaries. Sleep comes late, leaves early, or arrives in broken pieces. There are moments when my mind is exhausted but refuses to shut down, and mornings when my body wakes up tired, as if rest never fully happened. I learned how to function on less sleep, how to push through, how to convince myself that being tired was normal. But the body remembers everything. So there are days, sometimes weeks, when I crash. When I sleep longer than expected, withdraw from conversations, and feel the urge to disappear into silence. It looks like hibernation, and maybe that’s exactly wh...

Checkpoints that Miss the Point In many checkpoints across the country, it has become a familiar sight: commuters are asked to alight from buses or jeepneys, clutching their bags as police officers wave a stick to “inspect” their belongings. The process, though intended for public safety, often ends up more as a ritual than a genuine security measure. The question arises—does this really make us safer, or does it merely inconvenience the very people it aims to protect? For ordinary commuters, this routine feels like an unnecessary burden. Workers and students already endure long hours of travel, only to be delayed further by inspections that are, at best, superficial. A stick pointed at a bag cannot detect a real threat. If security is the goal, then checkpoints must be conducted with proper tools, trained personnel, and consistent standards. What makes the situation even more troubling is the unequal treatment between public and private transport. While commuters are subjected to sear...

 

 Happy 51st Birthday to Our Beloved Mother Today, September 21, 2025, we celebrate not only your birthday, Mama, but also the story of your strength, sacrifice, and love that has shaped who we are. You are five decades and one year of grace, courage, and resilience. When Papa was still alive, he always told us: “The only inheritance we can give you is education.” Back then, we didn’t fully grasp what he meant. We thought we were already rich enough because we could eat three meals a day. But life proved to us the depth of his wisdom. When Papa passed away in 2018—a year before my college graduation—he never had the chance to see me march in my toga at MSU. Yet, Mama, you carried on for us. You worked singlehandedly, washing clothes for others, borrowing from lenders, and sacrificing your own comfort just to keep us in school. Papa may have left early, but his SSS pension and, most importantly, your unbreakable spirit sustained us through the hardest years. Many doubted we could sur...

 This old photo reminds us that we had a happy family — even in the midst of challenges, we could still smile and live life to the fullest. In this memorable picture with my late husband, Allan Laya, my son Christian Jay Sope Laya, my younger brother Arnold Navarro Sope and his daughter Ferry Diana Sope, together with our close friends, the Maranguit sisters, we shared smiles as if there were no tomorrow in the timeless waters of Ladol, a glorious beach in Alabel full of cherished memories.

 Sa katahimikan ng gabi, bumabalik sa aking alaala ang tinig at halakhak ng aming ama. Subalit higit pa sa alaala, tila may multo akong inaasam—ang pagkakataong muling makapiling siya. Ang aking multo ay hindi ang anino ng takot, kundi ang pangungulila na bumabalot sa aking puso. Sa bawat pagdapo ng hangin, sa bawat kaluskos ng dahon, iniisip kong siya’y muling darating, nakangiti, at yayakapin kami gaya ng dati. Ang aking multo ay ang pagnanais na maibalik ang oras, na maranasan muli ang kanyang gabay, at maramdaman ang init ng kanyang presensya. Ngunit tulad ng lahat ng multo, nananatili lamang ito sa pagitan ng panaginip at pag-asam—hindi mahahawakan, ngunit laging nadarama.