💡 So What is a KOL?

✍️ I’m a Blogger, Not a KOL

What I do have is a voice—and stories that come from lived moments, not from expert credentials.

📲 How Social Media Has Shifted

😕 What Happens to Bloggers Like Me?

🧡 There’s Still Power in Personal Voice

✨ Final Thoughts

Yesterday was a tough day. An eye-opening one—literally and emotionally.

We went to Brokenshire Hospital for an ophthalmology consultation for my mama. Lately, I’ve noticed how her vision is deteriorating. She’s been half-blind for a while now, and it breaks my heart every time I see her struggle with daily things—things that once came so easily. As a daughter, seeing your mother in that state does something to your soul. I just wanted to know what I could do to help.

We woke up early. We were hoping to see the first doctor we chose, but when we arrived at the clinic, it was already closed. Apparently, they were only accommodating ten patients that day, and we were too late. That was disheartening, but I didn’t want to give up.

So, I searched for another ophthalmologist within the hospital. That’s when I found out Dr. Libre would be available in the afternoon. I quickly messaged his secretary, asking what time the clinic would open. She replied, “3PM.” Since it was still early, we decided to go home and rest.

By 2PM, we were back at the hospital. The clinic was already open when we arrived, and the secretary handed me a slip of paper where I wrote down my mother’s details. Then the wait began.

We sat in that waiting area for about two hours. Time seemed to crawl, but all I could think about was: I hope this doctor can help us.

Finally, at 5PM, we were called in. After a few minutes, the doctor examined my mother. His findings confirmed what I feared—Mama has a cataract in her left eye, and the right eye is developing one too. His recommendation? Eye laser surgery on her left eye. The cost? Around ₱60,000+, even with PhilHealth coverage.

When I heard the cost, I didn’t know how to react.

I sat there, stunned. I wanted to cry, but I held it in. I wanted to be strong for Mama.

Pity. Helplessness. Worry. Love. All these emotions hit me at once. I looked at her—my ever-strong, ever-loving mother—and I felt a deep ache in my chest. I just want her to see the world clearly again. To enjoy life, to read her Bible, to watch her favorite shows, to walk without fear.

But where do I get that amount of money?

I honestly don’t know yet. But what I do know is—I will do everything I can. Because she’s my mama. Because she deserves to see life in full color again.

I’m writing this not just to share what happened, but also as a reminder to myself and maybe to anyone reading this: never take your sight—or your loved ones—for granted.

Mama, I promise you—I'll find a way.

What Is 520 Day?

Screenshot from their Weibo Account Update: 5/20/25

My Personal Take on 520

Let’s Make 520 Day a Thing

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Want to know more about the history of 520 Day? You can check out this article:

[https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/520\_day](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/520_day)

Early Start with the Seniors

The Marker Chronicles: A Smudgy Situation

A Curious Detour: The Priority Polling Place

Efficient Crowd Management

Done voting at 7:45am

Where are the benefits? Where is the support for Filipino freelancers, creators, and digital workers?

Key Features:

• 12% VAT will be imposed on digital services offered by non-resident digital service providers (DSPs), such as:

  • Streaming platforms (e.g., Netflix, Spotify)

  • Online marketplaces (e.g., Shopee, Lazada)

  • Subscription tools and software (e.g., Canva, Google Workspace, Zoom)

  • Online advertisements and freelance platforms (e.g., Fiverr, Upwork)

• The Bureau of Internal Revenue (BIR) may require foreign digital providers to register and remit VAT if they earn over P3 million annually from Filipino consumers.

• It affects Filipino freelancers and digital entrepreneurs because many of the tools and platforms they rely on become more expensive, and even local digital services could be taxed more heavily.

Concerns and Criticism:

• No dedicated policies for Filipino freelancers or digital workers.

• Higher operational costs for online professionals and small digital businesses.

• Lack of support systems, benefits, or infrastructure in exchange for increased taxation.

• Seen as a burden rather than a support mechanism for the fast-growing digital economy.

Here's a breakdown of who are affected:

1. Freelancers and Online Professionals Writers, VAs, designers, developers, and other gig workers who rely on platforms like Upwork, Fiverr, Canva, Google Workspace, etc.

Their tools become more expensive due to added VAT.

Service fees may go up, reducing net income.

2. Small Digital Entrepreneurs 

Those running online shops, digital marketing agencies, or content creation businesses using subscription-based tools and platforms.

Added costs may be passed on to customers or cut into their own profits.

3. Content Creators

YouTubers, TikTokers, vloggers, bloggers who use paid software for editing, design, analytics, etc.

May struggle with maintaining content quality due to budget constraints.

4. General Consumers

People who subscribe to Netflix, Spotify, YouTube Premium, etc., are now paying more because these services are subject to VAT.

5. Educational Institutions and Students

Many schools and students using tools like Zoom, Google Classroom, or Canva Pro are also hit by the additional cost, especially in blended learning.

6. Startups and Tech SMEs

Digital startups often rely on international services and tools during early stages.

Added costs affect innovation and scaling.

7. Overseas Digital Service Providers

International companies now need to register with the BIR and remit VAT if they earn over P3M from Philippine consumers annually.

I owe this achievement to so many:

• To my loyal readers who have been with me from day one,

• To the new friends and followers who continue to inspire me to keep going,

• To my local and foreign clients who trust me to tell their stories and represent their brands,

• And most especially, to the community of fellow bloggers and writers who continue to push boundaries and elevate Filipino voices online.

From the bottom of my heart, maraming salamat!

Growing up in a Catholic household, Holy Week was not just a break from school—it was sacred. I graduated from a Catholic school and was raised in a home where faith wasn’t just taught, it was lived. My parents were active church servers, and their devotion deeply influenced my own spiritual path. I was taught to believe and follow the Roman Catholic traditions, especially during Holy Week, when everything slowed down for a reason.

Every Good Friday, our family had a standing tradition—Visita Iglesia. We would personally visit seven churches here in Davao City, and my mother, the ever-faithful one, would lead our prayers at each stop. It wasn’t just about visiting the churches—it was a prayerful pilgrimage, a form of reflection, and a quiet offering of time and presence to God. There was a deep sense of purpose in every step we took, from one church to another.

At 12 noon, we would return to our home church where my father, devoted and eloquent, would take his place as one of the speakers for the Seven Last Words of Jesus. My mother and I would sit quietly, listening to each word, absorbing every reflection, every silence in between. By 3PM, the service would end, and we would go back to our usual house chores, but our hearts felt lighter, more renewed.

As I grew older and had children of my own, I found joy in passing on these same traditions. I taught my daughters the meaning of Good Friday, why it mattered, and how it shaped our faith. But the world is not the same as it was when I was a child. Today’s pace, values, and distractions are different—and while I hold these traditions close to my heart, I have learned that I cannot force my children to do the same.

I no longer insist that they come with me for Visita Iglesia or sit through the Seven Last Words in church. Instead, we adapt. I stay home now, listening and watching the live feed of the Seven Last Words on TV. It’s not quite the same as being physically present in church, but the meaning is still there. The message still reaches the heart.

Yes, the world has changed. We may not always make it to the churches physically, but the essence of our faith remains. We still observe the Holy Week, still spend it in reflection, prayer, and stillness—at home. 

Traditions evolve, but their spirit lives on. And I am grateful that even in quiet corners of our house, we can still feel the solemnity and love of Good Friday.

Growing up, Maundy Thursday in our family was sacred—not in the extravagant or ceremonial way, but in the quiet, intentional rituals that we kept year after year. We never left the house. It was our little sanctuary where we honored the day with stillness, simplicity, and reflection.

As we observe Maundy Thursday, it’s not only about fasting or solemn reflection—it’s also about remembering the deep humility and love Jesus showed during His final hours. This day marks the Last Supper, when Jesus shared His final meal with His disciples before His crucifixion (Luke 22:7–38). It was during this sacred meal that He instituted the Holy Eucharist, breaking bread and offering wine as symbols of His body and blood.

One of the most touching acts during this night was when Jesus washed the feet of His disciples, teaching them the essence of servant leadership and humility. This act is detailed in John 13:1–17, a powerful reminder of how we should serve one another with love and compassion.

OUR TRADITION

We always began the day with worship songs. The soft melodies would play throughout our home, setting the tone for peace and gratitude. It was our way of welcoming the day and inviting the presence of the Lord into our hearts and space.

Our tradition was simple yet meaningful: a marathon of biblical movies played in the background, the Bible sat open on the table, and we took turns reading a verse or two throughout the day. Our meals were humble—usually fish, vegetables, and bread—signifying the start of our fasting. No meat, no indulgence. Just a day to pause and reflect.

When I moved out and entered college, I brought that tradition with me. Even in the busyness of dorm life and academic pressure, I made space every Maundy Thursday to return to that calm. I added something personal to it—my journal. I would write my thoughts, reflections, and even prayers. It became a sacred space between me and my faith. A quiet tradition that gave me clarity and peace.

Now that I’m a mother of two young adults, I find comfort knowing that the tradition has stayed with me—and somehow, it's evolving too. As I write this, it’s Maundy Thursday once again. The house is calm. My eldest daughter is curled up on the couch watching Kdramas, and my youngest is in her room, typing away on her thesis. She’s graduating this year, and I couldn’t be prouder.

We still follow our simple Lenten food tradition. The smell of grilled fish fills the kitchen, and we have vegetables and bread ready for dinner. The biblical movie marathon is on, quietly playing in the background, almost like a heartbeat reminding us of what this day is about. And yes, worship music still plays in the background—grounding us, lifting us.

While we all do our own thing now, the spirit of Maundy Thursday lives on in our home.

It’s not about being rigid or perfect with our traditions—it’s about remembering. It’s about passing on values of reflection, gratitude, sacrifice, and stillness in a world that never seems to pause. 

And as I write in my journal today, I smile knowing that Maundy Thursday will always be my day of grounding, whether as a daughter, a student, or now, a mom.

A Quick Bite Into Chopstick History

Before I dive into my own story, let’s take a moment to appreciate where these elegant utensils came from.

Me and My Chopstick Dilemma

My Learning Curve (And Wobbly Fingers)

Why Learning Chopsticks Felt So Rewarding