Posted on January 4th, 2009 by dominique
I received a request from Silliman Journal to write a reaction to a paper written by Dr. Ben Malayang III, current president of Silliman University. I don’t know if I have permission to repost that academic paper here, so I won’t. What follows is my response. Take it with a grain of salt.
Last Christmas, I stumbled across “Momo” in a bookstore bargain bin. “Momo” is a contemporary fantasy
Filed under: Books, Culture, Dumaguete | Comments Off
Posted on December 30th, 2008 by dominique
Much as I dislike riding on an issue after everyone and his mother has had their say on it, I can’t help but put forward this modest proposal for a fitting punishment for the Pangandamans. That is:
Ban the Pangandamans from all golf clubs forever.
It’s simple and it’s apt. It’s for the protection of all golfers everywhere.
Think about it: a case before the legal avenues is likely to drag on
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Posted on December 26th, 2008 by dominique
Ordinarily I wouldn’t cover a story like this on such a happy day but the following story got me so upset.
At around 1:30 PM today, at Valley Golf and Country Club, Antipolo City, Mayor Nasser Pangandaman, Jr., Mayor of Masiu City, Lanao del Sur, his father, Secretary Nasser Pangandaman of the Department of Agrarian Reform, and company, beat my defenseless 56-year-old dad and my 14-year-old
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Posted on December 6th, 2008 by dominique
What is a university? The idealist in me wants to say that it’s a place of learning where, insulated from the material concerns of the world, one lays one’s philosophical grounding and sets one’s direction; that it is in university that one asks the question Why. The cynic, on the other hand, whispers that it’s a four-year speed bump on the entrance ramp to the freeway known as the rat race; at
Filed under: Ateneo, Culture, Teaching | Comments Off
Posted on December 5th, 2008 by dominique
Oh very young, what will you leave us this time?
You’re only dancing on this earth for a short while…
–Cat Stevens
Less than a month since I returned to teaching and already I’ve collected several stories and points for reflection. No, it’s not so much that I’ve slammed into the harsh hard wall of reality; rather, I’ve stepped on the flaccid whoopee cushion of
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