2013.

For some, this was the dreaded "13" year. For others, this was the year they felt was the best because let's face it, we "survived" the supposed doomsday.

For me, it was a bit of both.

This was the year where I was in transition. In just a matter of months, I went from being a student to being part of the real world, or the world of the working class. During the first three months of the year, the only problems I had were passing every subject and handing in a stellar thesis. When April came and I graduated from college, I thought, "what's next?" A month-long sabbatical was in order, and the vacation in the US was a welcome break from thinking of the immediate future. This trip was a milestone in my life, it being my first time to the country. Coming back from that dream, I realised that I couldn't put off the hunt for the job opportunities.

It was hard, I could tell you that much. I probably sent my resume to multiple companies and organisations, yet not one answered. Frankly speaking, I was not used to having page after page of my planner blank. I was in a slump for a week, until I pulled myself together and thought ahead. If, by the end of October, I still had nothing, I would pursue my dream of a career in international relations. And the only way to do that is to go back to studying, this time for an MA.

But fate was playful, and here came the opportunity. Currently, I am employed in an NGO and while I have no regrets to joining the organisation, the transition stage from student to employee is still a bit hard to overcome. While I may have adjusted fairly well to the environment, I still can't help but miss the feeling of being a student.

But those aren't the only changes in my life. To be quite honest, my taste in music and film has gone back to whatever I liked before K-Pop and some sort of revelation came to me—that K-Pop really was just a phase.

Friends are also a matter of interest this year. Just last February, we had our class retreat. I was rereading the retreat letters I received and I noticed that a lot of things changed since then. Many of the letters I got told me, "I will never leave you, no matter the circumstance, because that's what friends do." In a matter of months, about half the people who told me that were suddenly like strangers to me. I have no idea what they're doing and they have no idea what I'm doing. On the rare situations where we meet, the conversations are suddenly clipped and detached. The realisation that words could only be just that makes me feel disheartened. But I like to believe that these people may not be really meant to be part of my future. Rather, they're part of a past—a bright and colourful past that I will never forget. Plus, I won't lose my optimism over this—not when I think that a person out there somewhere is someone who could change my life (hopefully for the good and not the other way around).

For twenty years, I felt year after year pass by so fast. And in the last two years, I finally noticed that I was missing something. I still don't know what it is I'm missing and I'm pretty sure I haven't found it yet, but I'm in no rush to find it. My friend did tell me before, "take it easy, everything will come when you least expect it."

Still, 2013 is gone in a matter of hours and 2014 is coming in. A new book starts, a new planner is waiting to be filled, and new adventures are starting to arise. Who knows? I might find whatever it is that I'm looking for this year.

With this, I raise my glass to the New Year.

I have a sister who just stepped on to the 7th grade platform of her life. She's going to the same highschool I went to and it's safe to say that she's very much familiar with the inter-school athletic competitions. So when I got free tickets to Game 3 of the UAAP Finals, she asked to tag along. I told her to wear something yellow and support my beloved Alma Mater. While my passionate screaming was nothing new, I was really very much surprised with my sister who was so at home with the UST crowd. Granted, we lost the match (and I was so emotional over that loss for two days), I was amused to see the twinkle in my sister's eyes. With just one game, a game that we lost, she was enthralled. When we were going home, she asked me, "Do you think I'll do well in UST?" I was taken aback by her question because not only is she just in 7th grade, she suddenly contemplated on her college plans. At home, three UAAP teams are "staying", so to speak. My dad hails from UP, my mom studied in FEU, and me and my other sister are Thomasians through and through. Despite all these, my youngest sister has recently been seriously considering UST.

What's funny is that it was not even me who did the convincing—it was her fascination with King Tiger Jeric Teng that did it for her. She's only seen him a total of two times—the first was when they picked me up in school and Jeric Teng came out of our building (aka AB/Commerce Building), and the second being Game 3—but she's already sold. It was amusing to see that while she doesn't really follow the Tengs' post-Game 3 guestings and happenings, she was firm in her resolve for UST. Her reason for choosing UST was, "besides you guys studying in UST, you have really cool athletes." As a joke, I asked her why she didn't pick DLSU when it was already so near and that Jeron was studying there; she just answered me with "Oh, that's my second choice after UST."

She's still in 7th grade and she has five more years until college applications, but she's already planning for it. As an older sister, it's pretty fascinating to see her like that. While I'm not going as far as calling UST her dream school, I can conclude that it's pretty high up on her list.

And honestly (this may sound a little biased), it's so easy to fall in-love with UST.

Even the most optimistic person in the world has bad days. Where everything just goes wrong. Those are the days where you just wake up on the wrong side of the bed, you run out of coffee or tea, you're running late for school or work, you got reprimanded by your professor or boss, or you come home out of sorts. There are just those days. It's like every single thing is pissing you off. There's something that made you tick and now, you're whole day is ruined. All you want to do is to close yourself off to the world and never come out. You're in some sort of emotional turmoil, wanting someone to comfort you but want to be alone at the same time. You think you have to have this day to just have a bad day, yet think it's bloody ridiculous and you don't have time for this.

You feel as if the whole world's conspiring against you; as if it's trying very hard to screw you over. And you want to blame everyone, even yourself, because this rollercoaster ride you're on can't be good for your health.

But, really. Here's what you do. Find somewhere private, somewhere you know you won't be disturbed, even for at least 10 minutes, and cry it out. Think of it this way: all the tears you're crying out are the frustrations, the anger, the sadness, the disappointments, and basically every negative emotion you're feeling at the very moment. All of these, you're crying out. All of these, you're getting it out in the open. And when you're done, you suddenly feel lighter.

So when you find yourself in a state of emotional awry, cry it all out. You'll feel better when it's over.

In our household, talking about politics over dinner is a normal occurrence. Probably because my parents work for a newspaper (and my dad came from UP Diliman) and us children were brought up with Scholastican ideals. So it was no surprise that the five of us took part in the Million People March that happened in Luneta just hours ago.

This may not be my first protest, but the amount of people in the streets still overwhelms me. Thousands of people in white shirts flooded the highway and Quirino Grandstand. Flyers were given out, banners and posters were raised up high, costumes and jingles were seen and heard throughout the entire place. Cries of "Makibaka! 'Wag magbaboy!" was the chant of choice of the people. I even saw a few of my college professors in the protest.

Different people from different classes, cities, and possibly everything different were present. And the sentiments were all pretty much the same: We're tired of being taken advantage of and it's time the government did something about it. The fact that even with the President's speech last Friday about abolishing the pork barrel, the people still pushed through with the march, says something about the whole situation.

But now that we're done with the first step, what's next?

And every person I asked answered the same thing: Wait for it. The next step is coming and we need you until the end.

For the past week, the island of Luzon has been at a standstill. Tropical storm Maring (internationally known as Trami) entered the country and, while it did not really come into contact with Philippine soil, it pulled the monsoon. That's where everything started.

Last Monday, the rain poured so heavily, the capital was literally submerged in the flood. More than half of the National Capital Region was flooded, people started fleeing their homes and evacuating to somewhere higher. All we ever heard and saw on the news were how deep (ankle-deep, knee-deep, waist-deep, chest-deep, neck-deep) the floods were; how the waters in the dams were rising at an alarming rate; how the rivers were on the verge of overflowing; how thousands of people were evacuating their homes for higher ground. Various news sites, both local and international, have painted on what literally is happening in the capital. Personally, I've had my fair share of flooded house experiences. Thing is, this is probably the worst one in my twenty years of existence. While my previous experiences (even if the flood did go inside my room) lasted for a day, this one lasted for three. Still, the rain has already stopped here (though I don't know about the other areas in NCR) and we've already started cleaning the house.

And while we're busy cleaning up, I would like to ask for your help. Be it donations, volunteer work, or you just know someone who may be in need of any help at all, it would do wonders to all of us Filipinos. Listed below are the emergency hotlines and other numbers which would get you into contact to whomever you want to contact, help-wise. If you are in need of rescuing or know someone who is in need of rescuing, please contact any of the numbers below.

Emergency Hotlines:

National Disaster and Risk Reduction and Management Council (NDRRMC) hotlines
(02) 911-1406, (02) 912-2665, (02) 912-5668, (02) 911-1873

Philippine National Police (PNP) Hotline Patrol
117 or send TXT PNP to 2920

Bureau of Fire Protection (NCR)
117, (02) 729-5166, (02) 410-6319 (Regional Director, Information Desk)

Department of Transportation and Communications (DOTC) hotline
7890 or (02) 726-6255

Metro Manila Development Authority (MMDA)
136, 882-0925 (flood control)
Trunkline: (02) 882-4150-77 loc. 337 (rescue), 255 (Metrobase)
Metrobase: 882-0860

Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH)
(02) 304-3713, (02) 304-3904

Red Cross hotline
143, (02) 527-0000, (02) 527-8385 to 95

North Luzon Expressway (NLEX) hotlines
(02) 3-5000 and (02) 580-8910

Subic-Clark-Tarlac Expressway (SCTEX) hotlines
(0920) 96-SCTEX (72839) (traffic hotline) or (045) 459-0522

Skyway System Hotline
(02) 776-7777, 0917-539-8762 (globe), 0999-888-0893 (smart), 0932-854-6980 (sun)

South Luzon Expressway (SLEx) hotline
0917-6877539 (globe), (049) 508-7509, (02) 584-4389

Philippine Atmospheric, Geophysical and Astronomical Services Administration (PAGASA) hotline
(02) 433-8526

Philippine Coast Guard
(02) 527-3877, (02) 527-8481, 0917-724-3682 (globe), 0917-PCG-DOTC (globe)

Manila Water Hotline
1627

PHIVOLCS
Trunkline: (02) 426-1468 to 79, local 124/125 (emergency);
Text/call: 0905-313-4077 (globe)

DSWD
(632)931-81-01 to 07, local 426 (Disaster Response Unit); (02) 951-7119

Local government units (partial)

Manila Traffic Hotline – 527-3087
Cainta Traffic Hotline – 646-0044, (02) 248-1743 (hotline)
Las Piñas Traffic – 874-5756, 874-3927, 874-5754, 874-5753
Mandaluyong Hotline – 534-2993 (traffic); 533-2225 (Command Control Center)
Taguig Traffic – 838-4301 loc. 7112
Marikina STOC – 646-1651, (02) 646-1633 (traffic)
Pasig Traffic – 643-0000 (Command Control Center); 643-1111
Makati Public Safety Dept – 844-3146, 819-3270 to 71

Source: Official Gazette of the Republic of the Philippines

To all those near the University of Santo Tomas and haven't had a decent meal since the rains started, here's a list of food stalls that have delivery services (besides the fastfood chains anyway).

Chef101: +63 921 562 9699
Noodle King: +63 910 803 7529
Pard's: 782 9044
Snack Bar:  +63 927 297 3898
JQK Chicken: +63 915 634 5887
Kinirog: +63 930 543 1502
Ate Olga's: +63 908 554 8420
Cow Wow: +63 922 851 3389

Unfortunately, I only know of those near my former Alma Mater. If you have anything like the list I gave for the other schools and universities, please do comment it below and I'll add it in here—a little help goes a long way.

Thank you, guys! Even if us Filipinos are very much resilient, a prayer or two won't hurt. Thank you again!

Or like what we always say: Bangon, Pilipinas!

There's a little kid, probably around 7-8 years old, who was standing in front of a shelf at the Young Adults section of the bookstore—the Fantasy section, if we're being specific about it. His eyes scan the titles until it lights up when he finds what he's looking for. He struggles to get the said book, tiptoeing and reaching out with his short arms. You smile in amusement but still keep a close eye on him, just in case something unfavourable happens. He falls back on his feet and huffs, and you couldn't help but chuckle. He hears you and looks on with a contemplative look on his face. He smiles and suddenly, he's approaching you.

"Hey, miss. Can you help me reach for the book? I'm still growing, you see. And you're already so tall!", he says. You laugh and tell him, "No problem. Lead the way, sir."

He leads you back to the shelf where the book was located, and he points you to the book. You look and you see him pointing to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. You feel a swell in your heart because it was the very same series that you often got lost in. You reach for the book and hand it to him. He looks so incredibly enthusiastic when he finally touched the hardbound cover, and you couldn't help but say, "You know, I read the first book a year before the first film came out." And he was so enthralled, he asked if you could tell him a story about you and the book.

And you agreed because you just can't say no to that adorable face. You wonder who he's with, but all that gets lost when the kid looks at you in anticipation.

So you started telling him how you read the book so diligently. You tell him how your parents scolded you before because when you got back from school, you blew off your homework to read the next chapter—they then resolved that before they gave you the book, you had to finish all your assignments. You tell him how you got Harry Potter merchandise for presents during your birthday and Christmas, because everyone saw how you couldn't let go of the book. You tell him how different your opinions were from most people because they hated Draco but you loved him. You tell him how you got into arguments with people because they kept saying that Slytherin was the House of Evil, when it really wasn't. You tell him how you always waited for an owl to show up and they never did—but one day, you found your acceptance letter and you literally jumped with glee. You tell him how you went to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter and experienced the magic, even for a little bit. You tell him how you always imagine yourself being part of their circle of friends, as you imagine them being part of yours. You tell him how you were brought to tears when JK Rowling said, "Hogwarts will always welcome you home." because you were so overwhelmed by so many emotions. You tell him how the book changed your life.

And he listens intently, soaking it all in. When you do finish, he goes quiet and looks at the book. You ask him, "Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?" He looks at you again and answers, "I'm fine, miss. I'm just really happy I met you! My brother, you see, tells me to stop believing in Harry Potter because he's not real. That magic's not real. That it will do nothing in my life if I keep reading about him." Flabbergasted, you wanted to look for the boy's brother and give him a piece of your mind. But you calm down, and just tell the boy once more, "He's real when you want him to be. And between you and me, I think the wizards are actually here, pretending to be Muggles."

He smiles again and goes back to looking at his book. Then he whispers to you, "How do you know they're here?" You smile and whisper back, "Because I'm a witch myself. Take a look at my scarf." His eyes widen and darts to the scarf covering your neck. He looks at the ends and sees the Slytherin emblem stitched on. He gasps and touches it, wondering if it's the real thing. He looks at you again and smiles. You hear someone calling out a name, and the boy suddenly stands up. You see him walk to a man—his dad, you assume—and gives the book. His dad goes to the counter to pay for the book, when the boy looks back again. He waves and says, "See you soon, miss witch!" People are looking at you in confusion but you just chuckle and wave back to the boy.

When you get back home, you dart towards your shelf and take out Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, getting lost once more in the world of the Boy Who Lived.

It's that time of the year again—the time of dark days and cold nights. The time when you'd rather sleep in during Saturdays, and forget about going out. From August to November (or until December, if we're lucky), the rain would pour down incessantly—as if it would not cease until the next year. Several names have already been brought up for this: bed weather, cuddle weather, and even London weather. During this time, the aroma of coffee would be everywhere—in the kitchen, in the dining room, and even in the bedroom.

A cup of coffee is, by all means, somewhat of a saving grace for everyone (except, of course, the children). It lessens the headache that's sure to come of the guy who has been out drinking until 3 in the morning; it wakes up the lady who has to go to work bright and early; it keeps that college kid awake for an all-night session of studying; it warms the old lady from the cold that's bound to seep into her quaint house very soon.

And that little cup of coffee can go with almost anything. It can go with biscuits during merienda; it can go with your favourite tapsilog for breakfast; it can even go with that cake in your fridge for your midnight snack. That cup blends well with the French Jazz Trio song that your dad insists on listening for relaxation or that new Arctic Monkeys song that keeps you awake at night while you're writing your paper due tomorrow.

Still, you wonder how you fell into this sort-of love affair with the beverage. How you've gone from refusing to take a sip of the bitter mix when you were a kid to not functioning as properly as you'd like without a cup. But all that gets lost in thought when you realize you have far too much to do.

Because really, a cup of coffee would be lovely. Thank you.

I went to SM Aura Premier with my parents and sisters last Saturday. The place was fine, given that some of the stores and restaurants were still not open. Anyway, being such book lovers, we went to National Book Store just to take a look inside (it was pretty small, by the way). Since my youngest sister is on a Trese streak (totally recommending this, especially to graphic novel readers), I went with her to the Philippine Fiction section in the bookstore to buy the latest one. When I saw Twilight, The Vampire Diaries, and The Hunger Games trilogy translated into Filipino, I cringed.

But that's the million-dollar question: Why did I cringe? Books were translated all the time so the citizens of that nation could understand the story if they couldn't fully understand English. So why should the Filipino translations be any different? Harry Potter has been translated into several languages—the same goes for the other bestsellers. If anything, these were translated because they wanted the others—the people who could not understand English as well as some of us do—to enjoy the story as much as we do. This could be the same for the people who decided to translate these bestsellers.

I admit, I prefer the original English ones over the Filipino translations. It might be because I'm far too used to reading my books in English that seeing the Filipino ones got me cringing. Even the Philippine literature that I do read are in English (save for the ones like the works of Jose Rizal and Andres Bonifacio). However, I do applaud the publishing company that decided to do this. In doing so, the masses who are more inclined to Filipino could enjoy the same stories that most of us enjoy.

Now to get back to Miguel Syjuco's Ilustrado.

You can feel it. You felt it as soon as the rays of the sun hit your face. You felt it when you were taking a shower. You felt it when you were eating breakfast. You even felt it when you were on the way to school.

You're finally over him.

You smile at the thought. That little smile turns into a grin. You want to laugh but you're in the train so you just grin. You're going to laugh about it anyway once you meet up with your best friend.

You then think back. You remember how you cried over him just a little over a week ago. You remember isolating yourself because you saw him talking to someone—someone who's not you. You remember the argument that pushed the both of you to the brink. You also remember that day when your heart broke and resolved that you will never get over him.

Yet here you are, grinning. "It's a good day today", you think. Because it is. You're getting off the next station so you permit another five minutes of contemplation.

You ask yourself what suddenly made this the day. You can't find an answer—nothing satisfactory anyway. You question everything, thinking of answers.

Until the automatic voice inside the train announced your stop.

So you step off and see your best friend waiting for you. She's still sleepy (she always is) and you have just the thing to wake her up. She waves at you and you wave back. You were walking to her when you suddenly bump into someone. The both of you fell down, and it's crazy because you're still in your school uniform. The other person stood up and offered his hand. When you look at him, you see that he has the loveliest pair of blue eyes. He hoists you up, and says,

"And here we are, standing up again."

He apologizes and walks off. You look at him curiously, and then smile. Your friend approaches you, asking you if you're alright. And you are, you know she knows that. Still, she asks what happened. You answer, "Nothing", and add,

"Because we always will stand up again."

In a few hours, MoA Arena is going to be packed with students coming in from different schools — majority of which would come from the eight participating universities in the UAAP. The arena is going to be flooded with shirts of yellows, blues, greens, maroons, reds, blacks and whites. These shirts would have tigers, eagles, archers, tamaraws, warriors, bulldogs, falcons, and Oble. If you're lucky, you'd even see painted faces.

In a few hours, you'd see these people talking animatedly, temporarily forgetting the school work that's due next week. Right when the event starts, you'd hear the beat of the drums. Drums of the different teams, trying so hard to drown the others' beats with their own. The chants would follow, and suddenly, the drumbeats sound like everyone's heartbeats.

In a few hours, friends go into rival mode. Best friends would go against each other during the match, doing everything they could to support the team they're in. And it's after the match that they make up over laughs and stories, dinner and drinks a plus.

In a few hours, the arena is going to be split in half. Throughout the match, chant aggression is key. Right after, one side is going to cheer and one is going to despair. But then the latter is going to wake up, stand up, and goes "We can still do this! This is just the beginning!"

In a few hours, social networking sites are going to be filled with statuses and updates about the league. Some, criticism. The others, pessimism. Still, they are going to be drowned by posts of endless support and optimism.

In a few hours, tigers will start growling.

In a few hours, eagles will start flying.

In a few hours, archers will start shooting.

In a few hours, falcons will start soaring.

In a few hours, tamaraws will start charging.

In a few hours, bulldogs will start biting.

In a few hours, warriors will start attacking.

In a few hours, maroons will start fighting.

Let the games begin! Happy UAAP Season 76!

In the midst of my job-hunting, I have come to realize how attached I am to Political Science. See, the first thing I said when I graduated was "FREEDOM!" Anyone would, considering how much we had to read during our four-year stay in the university. Try reading a bunch of journals plus a bunch of books every week. Not exactly fun, yeah? Well add in papers and assignments for the other courses too. But believe it or not, you get used to it. So much to the point that when we did get a day off, it feels weird. We're so used to working on something, we sort of forgot how to relax.

Still, while talking to some of my friends in college, I realized how much I miss the hustle and bustle of Political Science. Most of my friends are either pursuing Law or already working, and they all said the same thing: it's different. There's only so few of us who want to pursue an MA in a related field. I, for one, want to pursue an MA for International Relations (three guesses on what I want to be). Then again, it's still not the same.

I remember the times that whenever a professor assigns us readings, we groan and beg to at least lessen the load (didn't work, by the way). It continues to pile up until we suddenly feel so numb to everything, we just take it all in. Then we arrive home and suddenly realize how much we need to do. Contrary to popular belief, we go on a mass panic attack via Facebook/Twitter, then get to work around 11PM or 12NN until the wee hours of the morning. So what does this result to? Zombies in a classroom, powered by coffee or energy drinks (Cobra or Sting, to be specific). And the same process happens.

I will never forget the most hellish week of our lives. Professors call this "Last Finals Week of Your Lives", we call it "Hydra Week, or the Week Where We Get One Done, Three More Replace It." I know, you're curious as to why we call it that. See, it started with one paper. We were totally fine with it because we had the whole week to work on it. Until, of course, the professors thought it'd be a good idea to make the deadlines of all papers into the same week. When we get done with one paper, three literally replaced it. We made a total of 10 (!!!!!!!!) papers for that week. And people say we're not doing anything.

Funny how when I was still in school, I could care less about these things. Now that I'm here, I see how many memories I made. And the best part? I know I had a good time in college.

Two weeks ago, I could live with shorts and sleeveless tees. Now, I couldn't go out without wearing a jacket or bringing an umbrella. The change in wardrobe is a sign that the rainy season's here. Just last week, my sisters had their first week of classes. Yet it was already marred with class suspensions. Living in this country, class suspensions due to rainy seasons are a normal thing. It's like receiving a text from your mother when you told her you were coming home late - it was bound to happen.

Speaking of things bound to happen, we find ourselves stuck in some sort of predicament because of the rain. Take for example the students in the University of Santo Tomas. When they see the rain, they know that the streets and the whole campus will be submerged in flood. When I was still a student, I was worried because a) I live so far away from the university; b) my sister was on the other side of the campus; and, c) how am I supposed to get home when I can't even get out of the building because of the flood outside? Sometimes, I wait for it to subside. Other times, I just go "to Hell with it", put on my slippers, bring out my umbrella, and just walk outside to catch a jeep going to my Dad's office.

Another predicament? Whether or not you should ride the pedicab to cross the flooded streets. I was debating myself on whether or not I should ride the pedicab to get to my sister. I was two blocks away from her school, but the waist-deep flood in front me was just ridiculous. Figuring that a pedicab would be much more convenient, I rode one, only to be charged 50PHP for the ride. 50! But I was in a rush then so I just paid the fee and ran to the school. Going back, I contemplated on riding the pedicab again. This time, they were charging 100PHP. It was there that I drew the line and just waited for the flood to subside. It's crazy what they charge you with.

The traffic and class suspensions that come with rain are inevitable. But hey. What's rain in Manila without these?

I know what you're thinking. "Why is she splitting up her US trip posts into parts when they're so short?" See, the first part was supposed to be really short. But here come the second and third weeks. Why are they separated? Well. In our second week, we went to four places. And these places, especially New York City, must be described in detail. Or as detailed as I can get, maybe. But here it, our second week in the United States!

For a vast country like the United States of America, one week (or three!) will never be enough. There are far too many states with lovely places to be, even one month may not be enough. Three weeks spent in the eastern part of the US and we've only managed to scratch the surface. Still, it doesn't matter whether you've only spent a week or a year in that country; the experience was definitely the one that counted the most. So for three-and-a-half weeks, we state-hopped our way around the East Coast!

Dear you,

So...How's it going? Wait, scratch that. Stupid question. Sorry. This is awkward. Um, I know I don't write as creatively as your ex-girlfriend but I tried my best. Don't throw this out yet, please? Anyway, the reason why I wrote this letter is because I wanted to tell you something. But before that extremely awkward (friendship-might-get-ruined) thing, let me just say a few things:

Long-haul flights are always downright exhausting and if you're unlucky, uncomfortable. 10+ hours in a plane might seem harmless until you're actually experiencing it. If you're traveling to the other side of the world via plane, here are a few things I believe would help you get through the long flight a much more comfortable one.

I remember the first time I heard Never the Strangers. No, it wasn't from the Close-Up commercial (although Moving Closer was a cute song); it was actually from a Facebook friend who's close friends with someone in the band. Anyway, she shared the video of Alive and me, being naturally curious, clicked it. And can I just say that I loved it?

Muse is probably one of the bands that not many of my peers can appreciate (to be fair, they're all for mainstream pop and alternative). I can name around 4 or 5 people of my age who like them as much as I do. Most of the time, when they ask me what's playing on my iPhone and they hear "Bliss" blaring out of my earphones, I go on and on and on about the band.

The first time I saw (and heard) Conor Maynard was in MTV Push, around June or July of last year. Clips of "Can't Say No" and "Vegas Girl" were shown, and being a self-proclaimed sucker for urban beats, I was hooked. In that same month, his debut album "Contrast" came out.