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!