The Compass

21/08/2026

‎ 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐨 𝐨 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐨?
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‎For a few seconds, the screen feels almost magical. Then the money disappears. "Bawi lang", you tell yourself. "Isa pa ah, swerte ni surebol" . This is how gambling can begin not inside a casino or a local gambling venue, but inside a phone.
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‎Gambling used to feel distant and something found behind bright lights and brooding. Then came POGO and the growing online gambling industry. Now, the casino can follow you anywhere. On the bed. On the bus. During a break from school. It is always just a few taps away.
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‎Then there are the people we watch. Familiar faces like AkoSiDogie, already known by many young Filipinos through MLBB gaming and streaming, appear in slots and casino content. The screen shows the excitement, the wins, the reactions, and the big numbers. It can make gambling feel less like a risk and more like another form of entertainment.
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‎But what happens when the camera stops recording? We see the winning moment, but not always the money lost before it. We see the streamer, but not necessarily where their success really comes from years of content creation, audiences, sponsorships, and other sources of income. A viewer may only see the bet and think, maybe I can do that too.
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‎That thought can be dangerous. For young people, gambling can slowly begin to look like a hustle instead of a gamble. One loss becomes another attempt to win it back. Bawi lang. Until the money meant for food, school, savings, or tomorrow is placed on the next spin. What felt like entertainment begins to feel like something you cannot stop.
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‎Maybe gambling itself is not the problem when it stays within its place as entertainment. The problem begins when it replaces the work we should be doing or becomes something we depend on. Because behind every colorful screen is real money, and behind every bet is a real person. The casino may no longer need a building. Sometimes, all it needs is your phone and the hope that the next spin will finally be the one that saves you.

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐀𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈 𝐄𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐚


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21/08/2026

𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐘 𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐎 𝐃𝐀𝐘

“𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫”

Pero ngayon, ang tanong ay hindi na kung handa ba tayong mamatay para sa bayan.
Handa ba tayong mabuhay para rito?

Si Senator Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino Jr. ay hindi lamang nag-iwan ng isang katagang tumatak sa kasaysayan. Iniwan niya sa atin ang isang hamon: manindigan kapag mas madaling manahimik, magsalita kapag may inaapi, at piliin ang tama kahit may kapalit.

Sa Pilipinas ngayon, paano tayo magiging tulad ni Ninoy?

Hindi kailangang maging bayani sa malaking entablado. Magsimula tayo sa maliliit ngunit makabuluhang paninindigan—huwag makisangkot sa katiwalian, huwag magpakalat ng kasinungalingan, huwag manahimik sa harap ng pang-aabuso, maging mapanuri sa impormasyong ating pinaniniwalaan, igalang ang karapatan ng iba, at gamitin ang ating boses para sa kapakanan ng nakararami.

Kung si Ninoy ay handang ialay ang kanyang buhay para sa bayan, tayo naman ay dapat handang ialay ang ating panahon, tapang, talento, integridad, at pagkilos para sa Pilipinas.

Dahil ang tunay na pagpupugay kay Ninoy ay hindi lamang pag-alala sa kanyang kamatayan.

Ito ay ang pagpiling mabuhay araw-araw na may paninindigan para sa bayan.
Huwag nating hintayin ang isang bayani.
Tayo ang maging bayani sa sarili nating paraan.

Tayo ang magsimula.
Tayo ang manindigan.
Tayo ang pagbabago.

𝐒𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐏𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢 𝐄𝐥𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐉𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧

20/08/2026

‎𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐚: 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐫
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‎Every university has its dean, its professors, and its administrators.
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‎Ours has a princess.
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‎Meet Princess Portia—the University’s four-legged sweetheart. The beloved pet of the University’s Administrator is being nurtured by the loving care and unwavering affection of her, Mommy Mirl, keeping the li‎ttle royal happy, healthy, and always ready to brighten the day.
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‎Whether she’s taking a leisurely stroll around campus or simply greeting everyone with her gentle presence, Princess Portia has quietly won the hearts of students, faculty, and staff alike.
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‎With every wag of her tail and every curious glance, Princess Portia reminds us that pets are more than companions—they become part of our family. They have a remarkable way of bringing comfort on difficult days, joy in ordinary moments, and smiles when we need them most. Without saying a single word, they teach us kindness, loyalty, and unconditional love.
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‎In a place built on learning, Princess Portia offers a different kind of lesson: that happiness often comes in the simplest forms. Sometimes, it isn’t found in grand achievements or perfect days, but in the quiet company of a furry friend who asks for nothing more than love in return.
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‎After all, every great campus has a heart——and ours just happens to walk on four paws.

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐧





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19/08/2026

19/08/2026

𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐖𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠?

‎The first thing many of us see when we wake up is not the sunlight outside our window, the time on the clock, or what the day has in store. It is a screen. We unlock our phones, check our notifications, scroll through videos, and tell ourselves that we will only stay for a few minutes. Then one video becomes five, five becomes ten, and suddenly, part of the day is already gone. We are awake, but are we really present?

‎Phones were created to make our lives easier. Today, they have become something much bigger than that. They are our alarm clocks, cameras, sources of information, entertainment, and sometimes, the first thing we reach for when we feel bored. But as our dependence on them grows, one question becomes harder to ignore: are we using our phones, or are our phones slowly using us?

‎There is nothing wrong with using a phone. It helps us communicate with our families, keep up with friends, study, and discover things we would have never known before. For many of us, it has become almost impossible to imagine a normal day without one. But perhaps that is where we should start asking questions. When did something that was supposed to make our lives easier become something we feel like we cannot live without?

‎The strange thing about social media is that it lets us see almost everything except what is happening right in front of us. We know what our friends are doing miles away, what celebrities are eating, and what is trending across the country. Yet sometimes, we barely notice the world around us. We have access to millions of lives through a screen, but we can still miss the moments happening on our own.

‎Maybe the problem is not the phone itself, but how much of our attention we are willing to give it. There is a difference between using technology and letting technology use our time. We do not have to throw our phones away or disappear from social media. Sometimes, all it takes is putting the screen down during a conversation, looking outside instead of scrolling, or simply allowing ourselves to be bored.
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‎Our phones will continue to be part of our lives, and there is nothing wrong with that. But life should not become something we only experience through a screen. Because while we are busy watching everyone else's moments, our own are passing by too.

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐂𝐳𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐚
𝐏𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐏. 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐯𝐚

18/08/2026

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐔𝐩 𝐃𝐚𝐲

Do you know what day it is today?

Today serves as a reminder of one powerful call: “𝙉𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙪𝙥.”

Life is like a roller coaster ride; sometimes we rise, and sometimes we fall. Challenges in everyday life are inevitable. It may seem that we only achieve positive outcomes when we are winning, but there is also a brighter side to losing. Through our failures, we learn valuable lessons, correct our mistakes, and rise stronger the next time around.

Mistakes and failures shape us into stronger individuals, but this growth can only happen when we choose not to give up. Giving up may seem like an option, but perseverance reminds us that every struggle has its purpose.

Trust the process, wait for the right time and place, and continue moving forward. Through determination and perseverance, we can achieve the dreams we aspire to reach.

𝐓𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐊𝐚𝐲 𝐂𝐞𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐧

18/08/2026

𝙃𝙪𝙗𝙖𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙋𝙖𝙖, 𝙃𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙞 𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙋𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙥

Sa bawat hakbang sa karera, hindi lamang bilis ang sinusukat—kundi ang tapang na humarap sa hamon. Sa gitna ng kumpetisyon, may mga batang atletang tumatakbo nang nakapaa, dala ang pangarap na higit pa sa anumang kagamitan.

Ang bakas ng kanilang mga paa sa kalsada ay kwento ng pagsisikap, determinasyon, at pag-asang patuloy na umaabante. Sapagkat ang tagumpay ay hindi nakasalalay sa sapatos na suot, kundi sa pusong handang tumakbo hanggang dulo.

Dahil maaaring walang sapatos sa paa, ngunit walang makapipigil sa pangarap na marating ang finish line.

𝐌𝐠𝐚 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐭 𝐒𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢 𝐑𝐞𝐲 𝐈𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐠𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐨

18/08/2026

𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥

Apparently, our schools are safer now.
At least, that is what we were told.

After the shooting at San Jose National High School in Tacloban that left three students dead and around twenty others wounded, authorities promised to tighten security in schools. The Philippine National Police announced a review of school-security protocols, DepEd directed schools to revisit their safety measures, and police-school coordination was supposed to be strengthened. There was no shortage of promises.

And yet, here we are again. Another school. Another shooting. Another student dead.

In Zamboanga, a Grade 9 student reportedly entered a school campus carrying a rifle and a pistol, opened fire, killed another student, and later took his own life. So naturally, one question deserves to be asked: What happened to everything we were promised after Tacloban? Because if this is what "heightened security" looks like, then perhaps we need to reconsider what exactly we have been calling security.

Nobody is asking the government to predict every act of violence before it happens. Nobody is demanding that schools become impenetrable fortresses, and nobody is naive enough to believe that a security protocol can guarantee that no student will ever be harmed. But there is a very reasonable expectation that when something as catastrophic as Tacloban happens, the system learns from it. That is the entire point of having a system. You identify what failed, you fix it, you test whether the solution works, and then you make sure it is actually being implemented. You do not simply issue another directive, hold another meeting, release another statement, and wait for the next tragedy to tell you whether it worked.

Because today, we have another tragedy, and students are once again paying the price for whatever weaknesses remained after the last one. That is what makes this particularly difficult to accept. This was not the first warning. The Philippines had already been given one. Tacloban should have been enough to force every institution involved to ask the uncomfortable questions: How did the firearm enter the campus? Were access points properly monitored? Were security personnel adequately trained? Were warning signs reported? Were schools actually capable of implementing the measures being demanded of them? Those questions should have been answered before another student was killed. Instead, we are asking them again.

And this time, the public has every right to demand specifics. Not "we will strengthen security." Not "we are coordinating with authorities." Not "we are reviewing existing protocols." What specifically failed? Was the school's entrance secured? Was the student's bag checked? Were there security personnel present? Were the school's security protocols actually implemented? If they were, how did a rifle and a pistol make their way into a school? And if they weren't, why weren't they?

Those questions aren't an attack on teachers, guards, or school administrators who are themselves often working with limited resources. If anything, they deserve to be part of the conversation. Because handing schools a list of security requirements without giving them the manpower, equipment, training, and resources to realistically enforce those requirements is not a security strategy. It is passing responsibility downward and calling it preparedness.

And students should not be the ones paying for that distinction. They should not have to wonder whether the person standing at the school gate is actually equipped to protect them. They should not have to treat evacuation routes as something they might one day need because a gunman entered their campus. They should not have to learn the difference between a lockdown drill and the real thing. They should be worrying about recitations, examinations, deadlines, friendships, competitions, and what they want to become after graduation. Instead, some now have to learn how quickly a classroom can turn into a crime scene.

There is also something deeply unfair about how these incidents are eventually discussed. After every shooting, attention understandably turns toward the perpetrator: Who was the shooter? What was the motive? Where did the firearm come from? Were there warning signs? All of those questions matter, but the investigation cannot end there. A school shooting is not merely a story about one person pulling a trigger. It is also a test of every layer of protection that was supposed to exist before that trigger was pulled. And if those layers failed, someone needs to explain why.

Not necessarily to find a convenient scapegoat -- to find the hole. Because if we do not identify the hole, we cannot close it. And if we do not close it, we are simply waiting for the next school to discover it.

There will undoubtedly be statements again. There will be condolences, calls for calm, and promises that authorities are taking the matter seriously. But the Filipino public has heard these words before. The students of Tacloban heard them. Their families heard them. And now, students in Zamboanga have become part of the same conversation. At some point, condolences without correction begin to feel less like accountability and more like a routine.

The public's frustration is not difficult to understand. Parents sent their children to school expecting them to come home. Students walked through school gates expecting to spend the day learning. Teachers entered classrooms expecting to teach. None of them should have had to calculate the possibility of being shot. Yet here we are, asking the same questions we were supposed to have answered months ago.

So yes, security needs to be reviewed again. But this time, let us not settle for another announcement that security will be reviewed. Publish what failed. Explain what was implemented after Tacloban. Identify what did not work. Show what is changing now. And give schools the resources to actually enforce those changes.

Because a security system that exists only in memoranda, press releases, and policy documents is not much of a security system. It is security on paper. And paper cannot stop a bullet.

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐀𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐘𝐮

17/08/2026

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 “𝐈𝐬𝐚 𝐏𝐚” 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐲

For generations, jeepneys have carried Filipinos through busy streets, crowded cities, and rural communities. More than just a means of transportation, they have become a familiar part of everyday Filipino life—a symbol of ingenuity, resilience, and the ability to keep moving despite challenges.

But for many regular commuters, there is another familiar part of the jeepney experience: “overloading.”

Most students know exactly how it happens. You see a jeepney approaching and notice that there appears to be one empty seat. You get in, take your place, and think the ride will be comfortable enough. Then comes the familiar call from the driver or conductor: “Isa pa.”

Someone squeezes in.

Then another.

Before long, the seat that once seemed spacious becomes a cramped space where passengers are pressed against one another, sometimes with barely enough room to move.

It is easy to blame drivers for allowing too many passengers inside. At first glance, it may seem like a simple attempt to earn more money. But the reality behind overloading is more complicated.

Many jeepney drivers operate under the boundary system, in which they are required to remit a fixed amount to the vehicle owner or operator before keeping whatever income remains. At the same time, drivers have to deal with fuel, maintenance, and other operating expenses. With these financial pressures, every passenger can mean additional income—and every trip matters.

Understanding this pressure, however, does not mean that overloading should be accepted.

A jeepney that is packed beyond its capacity is not simply uncomfortable; it can become a safety concern. Elderly passengers may struggle to move or maintain their balance. Persons with disabilities may have difficulty finding adequate space. Students carrying school bags and other belongings can find themselves squeezed into already crowded seats. In an emergency, the lack of space can make movement and evacuation more difficult.

Yet commuters are not entirely free from the pressures that contribute to the problem either.

Many passengers board crowded jeepneys because they have few alternatives. When jeepneys are limited, waiting for the next one can mean arriving late for class, work, or an important appointment. For someone who has already waited for a long time, seeing a jeepney with standing passengers may feel like an opportunity that cannot be missed.

This is where the issue becomes bigger than a single jeepney.

When there are not enough reliable transportation options to meet the number of people who need them, overcrowding becomes almost inevitable. Passengers compete for limited space, while drivers face pressure to accommodate more people to make their trips financially worthwhile. What appears to be a problem caused by individual choices is therefore also a reflection of a larger social problem: an unreliable and insufficient public transportation system.

The solution, then, cannot simply be to tell drivers to stop accepting additional passengers or commuters to wait patiently for the next ride. Safety regulations must be enforced, but drivers also need a transportation system and livelihood conditions that do not force them to choose between passenger limits and earning enough for the day. At the same time, commuters need transportation options that are frequent, affordable, accessible, and dependable enough that they do not feel compelled to squeeze themselves into an already crowded vehicle.

Jeepneys remain one of the most recognizable symbols of the Philippines. They connect communities, bring workers to their jobs, take students to school, and provide an affordable means of transportation for millions of Filipinos. But preserving their role in our communities should also mean making the experience of riding them safer and more dignified.

Perhaps it is time to stop treating “Isa pa” as an ordinary part of the commute.

Because when there is already no room left, asking for one more passenger is no longer simply about making space. It is a reminder of how much pressure our transportation system places on both the people who drive and the people who ride.

Until we address those deeper problems, the sight of Filipinos squeezing into an already crowded jeepney will remain more than a familiar scene on our streets—it will be a reflection of a system that still has too little space for the people who depend on it.

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐲 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐨
𝐏𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐉𝐚𝐧 𝐉𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐁𝐚𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐚