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Kung Fu Panda's Master Oogway once said, "Yesterday is history and tomorrow's a mystery; but today is a gift. That is why it is called as the "present."

Many of us live in a fast-paced world, trying to work, shed sweat, tears and probably blood for what we think is for our future. The fable on the ant and the grasshopper always reminds us to always save for the rainy day.

It used to be that I believed in tomorrow. It appears to me as some sort of mirage ...

I sort of have this gift and talent when it comes to drawing a real life scenario.

My masterpiece below.

I hear some people speak fluent mowron ( mo ron asterisk ugh ). It is hard to understand. I try not to hurt them.

I had always wanted to have a hamster for a pet. My friend said they make real messy poops and their urines smell so bad. So I scrapped them off my list. Like a dog, my sense of smell is my most pungent sense. Then, I met a younger friend who talked me into taking care of a guinea pig. Before I got one, I had to research everything I need to know to become a responsible pet owner. I later found out that I need to feed it many times over within the day so that it wouldn't die. But I couldn't. No ...

My trip to Surigao City by Thursday was moved to tomorrow. I thought I had resigned myself to thinking that my shopping of stuffs for that trip will have to be put off to tomorrow. Well, I was wrong. With a seminar to conduct on Reading and Campus Journalism, I'm still amiss. Like someone who needed to tell her lover its over, I don't know where and how to begin.

Yet, there are things that occupy my mind now more than anything else. Apart from the seminar are some travel anxieties ...

I do my own laundry. I find it satisfying that they don't get to be mixed with other clothes (which smell I am as unsure as the stranger who owns them) should I decide to have them in the laundry shops. I usually do my laundry on Saturday mornings when I'm off from school work and have the day to myself.

I love the smell of fabric conditioner that reminds me so much that my task is done. But more than anything else, I love the way soap suds glide back and forth in my hand as I take ...

A joke is told about women almost reaching their "calendar" age (31 years old) and teachers most especially, has often been said like a tale passed on from one single old maid to another.

It said that those types of women are like their very own students taking a multiple choice type of examination. When they are at the ages ranging from 20 to 25, their preferences towards men are like the test choice, "none of the above." When they reach 30, they panic and they ...