Saturday Night Live - Sarah Palin and Hilary Clinton

TIna Fey as Sarah Palin and Amy Poehler as Hilary Clinton in a Saturday Night Live (SNL) episode ranked highest among others since 9/11, according to news reports. Their performance rightfully deserves such an honor. Tina Fey's astonishing resemblance to Republican vice-president nominee, Gov. Sarah Palin and how she completely copies her Alaskan accent made the skit effectively funny. That is of course, accompanied by hilariously witty lines created by the talented writers of the show. Amy Poehler's performance as Hilary Clinton was more or less at par with Tina Fey's impersonation of Gov. Palin.

A job well done to SNL!!!

Moving On: The Classroom

One.. Two.. Three... Four...

It was the fourth drop of tear from my eyes that I tried even harder to stop the tears. I didn't want anybody to see. I didn't want anybody's sympathy.

But I couldn't stop crying... Crying silently... Yet each drop of tear felt like I was screaming...

Mr. Ungriano's story about a girl who lost her mother to cancer opened up the feelings that I've been keeping inside. Although our circumstances might not be completely the same, the more important aspects of our stories are - our mothers, the cancer, the secrecy, death and the excruciating pain.

I wanted to rush out of that classroom and cry my heart out. All the memories, the things that I wish I could have done for her while she was still here and the wonderful moments we would never share just came rushing into my head.

It is not easy to handle the death of a person who was there every step of the way to cheer you on, a person who understood you the best, a person who nearly died giving birth to you, a person who wanted the very best for you, a person who unconditionally loved you like no other does and will ever do, and a person you had hoped to give the same level of happiness as she did for you.

Unfortunately, that chance is gone. No more birthdays to celebrate together, no Christmases with her delicious cooking, no graduation with her clapping, no wedding with her wise words and no more days with somebody to tell your deepest darkest secrets (the type that you can't even tell your friends).

Perhaps at this point, you might be wondering why I am telling this story despite my statement earlier of not wanting sympathy. That hasn't changed. I am merely saying this because I can't do anything else but think of her. This is the only way I know that will help me overcome the sadness of not having her around and the loneliness of knowing there will be no other like my mother.

Pathetic it maybe to you of how it seems that I'm a mama's girl. But believe me I never was, atleast I thought I wasn't. I guess, the little moments that seemed unimportant to me before are now accentuated because it is no longer the same.

Yes, I'd probably get used to it because what else is there to do but move on. If I continue to dwell in the past, it will ruin me and the wonderful future that my mother had helped to build for me.

But, I will always look back... Because by looking back, I'm more motivated to move forward. I might not have realized this when I was in Sir Ungriano's class but I do now. My mother wanted me to be there in that classroom - to listen to lectures, to participate in discussions, to learn from learned people. By being present in that classroom perhaps I could move on.

NBSB

No Boyfriend Since Birth or NBSB was a term that I heard during my high school years when having a boyfriend mattered a lot. The term basically meant that I haven't had a boyfriend before and back then being an NBSB girl did not have any implications.

I'm 19 years old turning 20 soon and I am still an NBSB girl. I haven't been courted by any guy or even a girl (courting is a common practice in the Philippines); I haven't dated; no guy has confessed to me and I haven't confessed my love to any guy although I had fallen in love before. I was just unfortunate enough to have fallen for someone who had fallen in love with a friend.

I will not deny that I have longed to be in a romantic relationship with a man who I love and who loves me back. But as my friends say, "You haven't had a boyfriend yet 'cause God is still making the most beautiful love story for you." Yes, I have very corny friends but I appreciate how they try to comfort me.

There is nothing wrong with being single at my age. I have lots of friends who are also NBSB girls and I know others who are or were NBSB girls at nearly 30. But being single for this long and looking at couples in the mall or in campus, some NBSB girls would start to think "why isn't that girl me?", "why don't guys find me attractive?" or much worse, "is there something wrong with me?". Insecurities start to build up. You start asking yourself "am I not pretty?", "am I not interesting enough?", "am I ugly?" and "do I not have a personality?"

I have asked myself these questions before. I was so insecure that I started to hate myself. I wanted to revamp myself -a complete makeover. It also came to the point that I blamed my overprotective father for being so scary that he probably scared off any of my prospects. But neither did the work. Heck! I'm still single today!

It didn't come to me that I could not completely revamp myself. If I had to change completely then that wouldn't be me. In the end, I wouldn't be happy even if I were in a relationship because I wasn't free to be myself.

Also, I missed an important fact about being in a relationship... Love. There might be something wrong with us, NBSB girls. Our friends and family could also be a factor in our solitude. But being in love and being in a relationship means that the two of you accept each other's merits and flaws. To the other person, it doesn't matter if you're fat, stupid or ugly. You're you and he loves you for being you. It is only by being with that guy can you really change yourself for the better. Although, other people's opinion affect your relationship, which it surely will, in the end it all comes down to the two of you.

In short, God is indeed busy making the best love story for us, NBSB girls. We just have to wait for Him to finish. =)

Daughter

It was late and I could not sleep. I had been thinking for awhile now if I should proceed with my plan. I stared out the window looking for the moon like I always did back home in my room. The moon had a way of calming me down and I had hoped that it would give sense to what I was about to do. But to my dismay, there was nothing up there but the series of windows of the adjacent building. So I look down at the palm of my hands and started to count them – that thing that will help me. "One… two… three… four… five… six… seven… Is this enough?" and I counted them again, "One… two… three… four… five… six… seven… eight…Is this enough?"

I counted the pills so many times and always ended in wonder – how many should I take? How much would be enough to stop the pain?

I paused from counting. I closed my eyes and suddenly tears dropped from my eyes. I knew that what I was about to do was wrong but I felt that it was the only choice I had to stop the pain. As the tears fell from my eyes, it reminded me every great memory I had – every happy moment that made me who I am.

I remembered how Mama used to call me Rhodania in the morning with a loud angry voice to wake me up to go to school and how I would open my eyes only to find that Papa's arms were wrapped around me, calling me Dangkikay so gently and asking me to get up. I remembered how Mama always scolded me in the morning because I moved so slowly and was thus, always late for my class. I remembered how they both cheered for me when I went up to the stage to receive awards and how Mama helped me to get them by teaching me through the summer and every night after school and by constantly encouraging me. In many ways, my mother was my strength – she was the voice who woke me up, taught me and drove me on to be what I can be.

But I also remember how I held her almost lifeless body in my arms as I called to her to wake up. She was in a coma. The cancer cells had gone up to her brain and there was nothing I could do. She was dying.

I remember feeling useless and angry for not knowing that her life was about to end. I hated knowing that I was not there when she needed me most. I kept thinking that she had sacrificed so much for me but I could not even be there by her side as she went in and out of the hospital. How stupid I was not to realize the severity of her illness earlier on! How could I not see how much pain she was suffering!

I remember how her body felt when they opened the casket so that we, her family would be able to touch her for the very last time. But as I touched Mama's corpse, all logic had escaped me. I was almost driven mad by the feel of her hand. It was not my mother. I refused to believe that my mother's body could feel so cold and hard because I remember every touch, pat, embrace and kiss that Mama ever gave me.

I do not know how to accurately explain how deeply damaged I was when she died. It was like there is something in me that died with my mother, like my heart had become hallow and a precious dream had suddenly diminished. How I wish I could get it back but I do not think I ever will.

And there is a lot that I can say about my life – how I was able to get 19 medals when I graduated from grade school; how I was constantly an honor student until senior year in high school; how I won various contest during interschool competitions like the Regional Intel Science Investigatory Project and the Regional Schools Press Conference; and how actively I participated in school politics being the president of the school when I was in grade school and high school. But none of it can be said without mentioning the person who had loved me more than anything else in this world – the guiding force who was behind all of my achievements and right now, in spite of all the excruciating pain I cannot imagine my life without having been her daughter.