I remember the first time I saw Pope Francis on television. His simple white cassock, the gentle wave, and the warmth in his eyes felt like a new dawn for the Catholic Church. As someone who has never set foot in Rome or marveled at the grandeur of St. Peter's Basilica, my connection to the Pope has always been through the screen and the pages of news articles. Despite this distance, I have been an ardent follower of his journey since his ascension, always hopeful for the winds of change he might bring. The recent controversy surrounding Pope Francis' homophobic remarks was deeply unsettling. As an advocate and ally of the LGBTQ+ community, I have seen the pain and struggle some of my friends, colleagues, and family have endured. It felt like a personal blow. The Pope, a figure I admired, had faltered. It was a moment of disillusionment, but it was also a moment that demanded attention and reflection. The remarks were not just words; they were echoes of centuries of discriminat

I was casually sipping my coffee while browsing Facebook when I chanced upon a viral video of a child handling a work call, even describing how to "hang up and submit" the call as if it were nothing. My immediate thought was, imagine if a client abroad gets to watch this video. While it's adorable that a child is mimicking their work-from-home parent, imagine the potential consequences. Clients abroad could easily form a negative perception of Filipino freelancers, assuming a lack of professionalism or disregard for client needs. This single video has the potential to damage the reputation we've meticulously built as reliable and dedicated workers. The video shows a young child mimicking her mother's work routine, stating, “‘pag may tumawag, hang up niyo lang and submit.” This is alarming because hanging up on a call is a major breach of protocol in the call center world and could result in disciplinary action. This act, while seemingly innocent and humorous, rais

I recently visited the cinema section of SM Cabanatuan and noticed "Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga" was now showing.  There were no lines and the attendant looked bored and sleepy. The vibrant energy of movie-going had vanished, replaced by empty seats and silent halls. It reminded me of when cinemas were the beating heart of our social lives. In the 80s, the excitement of a new movie was palpable. Cinemas in the Philippines offered double features—two movies for the price of one ticket.  After watching the second movie, I would often leave with a headache, my eyes struggling to adjust after nearly five hours in the darkness. The smell of buttered popcorn filled the air, mingling with the musty scent of the theater—a mix of wood, leather, and human odor.  Colorful, hand-painted billboards by local artists adorned intersections, announcing the latest films and drawing us in like moths to a flame. We eagerly awaited the weekends, then hurrying to get our tickets.  Inside, the buzz of