I never thought I’d see my name as a writer in a national newspaper, one of the big three, with the biggest circulation. Cheers! Rewarding experience.
This was for BETTER HALF of the Lifestyle Section of Manila Bulletin which features love stories of prominent couples. I got the chance to interview Onemig Bondoc and his wife, Valerie Bariou and have cute moments with their daughter, Armelle.
Revisited my Pottermore account after so many months.
Btw, I was sorted in SLYTHERIN.
Yes. I’m a pureblood.
Yes. I belong to the “elite” of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Yes. I like winning. Almost all the time. LOL.
“We’re like our emblem, the snake: sleek, powerful and frequently misunderstood.” (Pottermore)
WAND
REDWOOD WITH DRAGON CORE, TWELVE AND THREE QUARTER INCHES, HARD
Wand Wood: REDWOOD
Explanation:
Wand core: DRAGON
Explanation:
Wand Length and Flexibility: TWELVE AND THREE QUARTER INCHES, HARD
Explanation:
In my experience, longer wands might suit taller wizards, but they tend to be drawn to bigger personalities, and those of a more spacious and dramatic style of magic. Neater wands favour more elegant and refined spell-casting. However, no single aspect of wand composition should be considered in isolation of all the others, and the type of wood, the core and the flexibility may either counterbalance or enhance the attributes of the wand’s length.
Most wands will be in the range of between nine and fourteen inches. While I have sold extremely short wands (eight inches and under) and very long wands (over fifteen inches), these are exceptionally rare. In the latter case, a physical peculiarity demanded the excessive wand length. However, abnormally short wands usually select those in whose character something is lacking, rather than because they are physically undersized (many small witches and wizards are chosen by longer wands).
Wand flexibility or rigidity denotes the degree of adaptability and willingness to change possessed by the wand-and-owner pair - although, again, this factor ought not to be considered separately from the wand wood, core and length, nor of the owner’s life experience and style of magic, all of which will combine to make the wand in question unique.
(source: pottermore.com)
According to research, Bellatrix Lestrange’s wand was 12 3/4, Walnut and Dragon core and “Unyielding.” Aside from the wand wood and flexibility, we’re almost the same.
Does this mean I’m going to be a Dark Wizard too?
At first, the thought was rather acceptable. I’ve gone through it and turned out fine. I didn’t really care—my body needed that treatment and I HAVE to accept it. There were no other options.
If they had done the procedure right away, maybe I would have accepted it immediately. What’s done is done…if I had these “battlescars” after then fine with me.
But the date for this is looming. Because I chose to give priority to studies first, they moved it to a later date. And the more I think about it, the more I cannot accept it.
I am in the lane of two extremes: of fear and happiness.
There are so many opportunities being offered, more chances to aim my goals and ambitions. But how can I use them to advantage when my body is failing me? How can I be myself and do the best I can when my health will not let me?
It’s damn hard to tell the people around me…I can’t mention it without crying all over the place. Because I’m scared of what’s happening to me. I don’t know what’s happening inside me.
I already went through it bravely. But why do I have to go through it again so soon?
I’m too young. I’m just 18.
I may be tough. But I can’t suffer more physical pain. It’s frustrating…it’s freaking sad.
I even have to give up other commitments because of it.
My father even said, “kung wala lang yan, pwede mong tanggapin yun…”
It’s not my fault. And now, I’m lacking the courage to face it.
I need time…more time for what I want to do for myself and my future. I need time for him. For my family. For my close friends. For this.
I have to write it because I cannot say it. It’s kinda personal…
Sometimes you have to look out for yourself too. And this silence has stretched because I cannot bear being asked questions. I know I cannot make all of the world understand.
I just pray I’ll have the courage for it. And that it all be alright for me in the end. After all, I have to go through it alone. I am the one who has to sacrifice. I am the one who has to endure the pain that’s very familiar.
I just pray to God I can do it.
Two things that she kept on saying to me whenever I visit her stuck—one was I should not have a boyfriend (to which I laughingly said of course while twisting two fingers behind) and the second was that she insisted she’ll wait for my college graduation.
When the news hit me, all I could think of was the latter. And I was struck again by how cruel fate can be (which is of course, a cliche, yuck).
There are those promises that we can’t help but break. And she broke it by leaving. It’s stupid but I really believed her because she was strong. I did not know that that would be the last time I’d see her eyes crinkle when she would smile at her favorite grandchildren (right hand raised, I’m included), or assist her in walking around the house, and pacifying her that I would not join rallies. (I didn’t have the heart to tell her that journalists don’t join rallies but cover them.) But I cannot blame her. She’s 94 years old and probably had enough of the world.
And I looked around trying to memorize the space, the atmosphere and the details. Saying goodbye to her was like leaving childhood. Going back there would never be the same.
I didn’t have the heart to hold on to her.
She lovingly supported us all. One great woman who didn’t have children but loved us to pieces. Because her pamangkin cannot pronounce “tita, she was called “ate”. And the rest followed the practice.
I wasn’t always around you, Ate, to help. But I do miss you. And I feel your loss when I look back to happy family memories.
Your memory will be with me in my graduation. Thank you for always being so proud of me. I felt it all the time. And it helped a lot…believe me, it did.
And I can only pray that you rest in peace now. I know you’re in good hands.
I must have been out of mind. For like, my entire life. But let me tell you what I’m feeling at the moment… yesterday, I was ecstatic and I was prepared to be convinced that it was one of the best days. And yes, I did receive one of the best news in my life, ever.
But there’s this nagging part of me that feels like there’s missing. There’s a part of me that wonders and doubts. And I hate that part. Because that part destroys this magnificent picture in my head…like the way a smudge could destroy what could have been a perfect painting.
Perfect. No such thing.
Into the 5th Century. Proud Thomasian!
(A collage of my Valentine’s gift from him.)
I love you.
And I wish I could say that every time I feel it. But sometimes I lack the courage, sometimes I feel like I should be restrained. I know I am not that expressive with you, or even affectionate. I rarely cuddle up to you and tell you sweet nothings. But you must know that it is tempting to go by your side and whisper to you that there’s no one else who have gone this far with me, that you are my best friend, soul mate and that I never want to go away from you. That I love you, despite my fear of the promise of forever.
You don’t know how you’ve changed me. Bit by bit.
You’ve made me a better person just by knowing you love me. And that in my heart, I also feel the same.
Thank you.
(photo source: http://images4.fanpop.com/image/photos/15000000/Pride-and-Prejudice-pride-and-prejudice-2005-15002280-2560-1677.jpg)
How old literature can still send impact to post-modern love language.
Main Building of University of Santo Tomas still in its light effects display. 400 years celebration of my beloved university. Congratulations USTe! Proud to be a Thomasian at 400!
