𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐍 | 𝗙𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗙𝗔𝗡 𝗙𝗔𝗜𝗧𝗛 

by Marya 

“Ang ating pag-iibigan ay muling masusulat sa huling pagkakataon.” - Carmela Isabella 

Most of the time, fans are patient. They wait in the quiet corners of social media, keeping screenshots of old promises, remembering small details from chapters long past. They hold on to hope like a thread, trusting that what they believed in will someday be returned to them.

For the followers of I Love You Since 1892, that hope was MarNella. It was a symbol of everything the story once stood for. Their names were etched into the DNA of the narrative, the faces behind the imagined scenes. 

That is why it hurts now.

When the official announcement arrived that another love team would take their place in the adaptation, it landed softly. But the pain it caused moved loudly through the community. Not because change is impossible. Not because people cannot adapt. But because something sacred was broken.

So when the production moved forward with different names, it felt like more than just a decision. It felt like abandonment.

People tried to understand. Maybe it was a business call. Maybe there were pressures too heavy to resist. Maybe things changed behind closed doors. But all those maybes still could not cover the weight of a promise that was once made so confidently.

Those who stayed since the beginning never asked for perfection. They knew the industry could be unpredictable. But they held on to the words that came from the very person who built the world they loved. When those words faded into silence, what followed was confusion.

What made it worse was not just the absence of MarNella. It was the absence of acknowledgement. The lack of explanation. The quiet shift that left loyal supporters feeling like they were no longer part of the vision.

The disappointment was not loud. It was tender. It was personal.

Many fans have grown with the story. They were there before it was popular. Before awards. Before screen talks. They were the ones who stayed during rewrites and long pauses. What they asked in return was something simple: for the vision to stay honest.

But honesty, it seems, became the first thing to go.

The character is still there, but the real portrayer isn’t. The setting remains, and the story moves forward—but something feels missing. What used to be a shared dream now feels unfamiliar. The connection once built on trust now carries a quiet ache. Is there still a possibility to make the imagination turn into reality—or has that chance already passed?

The love for the book remains. It is too deep to be undone by one decision. But love without trust becomes fragile. The kind of fragile that does not scream. The kind that walks away quietly.

Most of the time, fans will forgive. They will move on. They will find a way to support, even from a distance. But they will always remember the version of the dream that included them. The one that was promised. The one that never came.

 𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐒 | 𝗖𝗔𝗣𝗦𝗨 𝗕𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗔𝗦 𝗦𝗢𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟 𝗦𝗧𝗨𝗗𝗜𝗘𝗦 𝗦𝗧𝗨𝗗𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗦 𝗪𝗜𝗡 𝗠𝗨𝗟𝗧𝗜𝗣𝗟𝗘 𝗔𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗗𝗦 𝗜𝗡 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗥𝗧 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗦𝗘 

by Joshua G. Dela Torre

Social Studies students from Capiz State University (CAPSU) Burias Campus won multiple awards in the 2025 International Short Course on “Law and Governance in Southeast Asia: Insights from Indonesia and Beyond,” hosted by Universitas Ahmad Dahlan (UAD) on July 12–29.

Eight students from the College of Education who are specializing in social studies completed the international course together with other Asian participants. CAPSU Burias delegations include Wenalyn C. Venerable, Danica Joy R. Samino, Marienel N. Proseso, Daniela U. Degoma, Maria Mae A. Lopez, Jenny Rose T. Bernales, April Joy M. Sonio, and Meryl E. Balasa.

Moreover, an essay competition marked the closing program where students were grouped into five chambers.

The CAPSU Burias delegation earned multiple awards during the program:

Danica Joy Samino and group mates – 1st Runner-up in the overall essay competition and 2nd Place in Chamber 1

Wenalyn C. Venerable and group mates – Best Essay in Chamber 3

Daniela Degoma and group mates – 3rd Place in Chamber 4

Meryl Estefano Balasa and group mates – 2nd Place in Chamber 2

Expressing her gratitude, Samino stated "I’m happy to share that I have successfully completed the UAD International Short Course 2025. It was a meaningful experience where I learned new things, improved my communication skills, and connected with students from other universities. I’m thankful to my professors, classmates, and especially to Manang Krizle and Manang Kasandra for their support. I’m grateful for this opportunity to share my knowledge and grow."

The two-week short course covered Indonesian public law, private law, Islamic law, and Southeast Asian legal policies through a series of synchronous sessions on Zoom and asynchronous activities on UAD’s Moodle-based learning platform wherein participants also engaged in in-depth discussions on natural resource policies, Pancasila, Indonesian politics of law, the new criminal code, international humanitarian law, national sharia arbitration, and artificial intelligence policies in ASEAN.

"There were over 100 participants in the program. My classmates came from different countries, including the United Kingdom, Pakistan, and Indonesia. During the sessions, we shared information about what is happening in our own countries, especially on topics related to the course. We also discussed how we can identify and solve problems that may happen in our countries," Venerable shared.

The Faculty of Law of Universitas Ahmad Dahlan organized the international short course in partnership with the Faculty of Teacher Training and Education, Citizenship Education Program, bringing together students from across Southeast Asia to broaden their understanding of law and governance in the region.

Reflecting on the experience, Lopez, one of the participants, shared "It was a great experience to be part of the International Short Course, this moment feels so indescribable, overwhelming and full of gratitude for the chances to be part of this journey—meeting new individuals, learning lessons, turning school vacation into waiting every session, discovering lectures, spreading knowledge, and connecting cultures beyond borders."

 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐍 | 𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘 

"𝘏𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪 𝘯𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘢 🎶"

That line plays in the background, almost every day in facebook stories, and every time I hear it, I feel something shift. It hits differently when you’re carrying truths and freedom the world would rather ignore. People often ask me if I’m afraid to be a campus journalist, and I can’t blame them. The risks are real, the pressure is heavy, and the cost can be too much. But if fear keeps us quiet, who will speak? Who will inform?

Today, we commemorate National Campus Press Freedom Day, a powerful reminder that student journalists play a vital role in every institution. They are the voice of truth, holding the line for transparency and freedom of expression, even in the face of fear and intimidation.

Fear comes naturally when you carry a pen that can provoke power. People ask if I’m scared, and I would be lying if I said no. But the greater fear is silence, the kind that allows lies to bloom while truth is buried. Journalism was never about being fearless. It’s about standing firm, even when your voice shakes.

I entered campus journalism not to make noise, but to make sense. Every story I write still leaves my hand trembling. Not from doubt in the facts, but from knowing how a single sentence, if misread, can become a weapon used against me. This is not simply writing. It is walking into a room full of secrets with a match in hand.

In this country, the 1987 Constitution promises press freedom. Republic Act No. 53 protects our sources. Republic Act No. 10175 tackles digital harassment. These laws are shields, yet sometimes they feel like paper in a storm. No statute can fully protect those who threaten comfort with truth.

Even the seasoned fall. Journalists are red-tagged, sued, discredited, disappeared. I remember what Jacque Manabat said at the National Campus Journalism Convention 2025: “Lies will prevail if there are no journalists...  good journalists.” That truth lingers. Because when truth-tellers vanish, all that's left is noise, and in that noise, justice loses its voice.

We are more than students typing in classrooms. We are witnesses. Record-keepers. So if you ask me again whether I would still choose to be a campus  journalist, the answer is yes. Not because I am immune to fear, but because my conviction outweighs it. Belief, after all, survives longer than fear ever could.

To those who want to write stories that matter, do it trembling, do it tired, but do it anyway. Fear will always be there. Let it sit beside you. Just don’t let it hold the pen. The truth doesn’t need perfection. It only needs someone brave enough to write it down. Let's keep holding the line.

Editor's note: The views and opinions expressed in this column are not necessarily representative of the Publication's or the University's views and opinions.

 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘 | 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗥 𝗕𝗘𝗡𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗛 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗖𝗔𝗣 

by Reven Luciano 

“May trabaho ka na?”

“Diin ka gaubra subong?”

Those questions echoes in my mind.

One moment, I'm on stage, diploma in hand, basking in the applause. The next, I was in my room, scrolling, wondering what comes after the applause fades. The deadlines, the pressure, they're gone, but the weight remains. No one’s grading me anymore, yet I keep asking myself, am I enough?

I’ve learned that it's okay to not have it all figured out. I’m not behind. There's a time for everything, according to the holy scripture. I’m still becoming.  My life isn’t a polished, Instagram-worthy facade. It's messy, it's sounds like an MMK story, it's real, and it's mine.

No one talks about this part. The limbo. The silence after the claps. The job offers that never came. The messages left on “seen.” The lively GC's that turns into abandoned corner. We're all just trying to stay afloat.

But if today I breathed through the weight of it, that’s enough.

I don’t need a perfect plan. I don’t need to rush. I’m allowed to rest, to not know what's next.

One day, I’ll thank this version of me. The one who kept going. The one who whispered hope into the quiet.

This messy, unclear path I’m on? It’s mine. And that’s more than enough.

 𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐒 | 𝗖𝗔 𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗖𝗢𝗥𝗘𝗦 𝗗𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗕𝗘𝗥𝗔𝗧𝗘 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 

by Avigayil Alcasid 

“We can work together to improve our campus continuously by planning deliberately.”

Campus Administrator Dr. Rodyard B. Madiclum underscored collaboration and deliberate planning during the 2026 Campus Budget Forum held on July 11 at Bermejo Hall, as stakeholders gathered in preparation for the University-Wide Budget Proposal for Fiscal Year 2026.

The forum aimed to engage all campus sectors in aligning their plans and proposals toward shared institutional goals.

Mrs. Rosario P. Berganio, the designated Budget Officer, presented the rationale and sources of the projected revenue for FY 2026. She also outlined the expected expenditures, key financial targets, and budget allocations across programs.

Deans, office heads, department chairs, fiduciary fee officers, and student leaders took part in the budget planning by laying down their unit-specific proposals and highlighting their operational needs for the upcoming fiscal year.

An open discussion followed, where participants raised questions, suggestions, and concerns, helping to ensure that the proposed plans were accurate, realistic, and aligned with the campus’s strategic priorities. Notably, student representatives were actively involved in the dialogue, reinforcing the importance of inclusive budgeting.

“I believe that the proposed budget allocations will definitely affect student life in many ways. If more funds go toward student services, academic resources, or extracurricular activities, our experience in the campus will improve—whether it's getting help when we need it, joining organizations and projects, or simply enjoying our time here,” Niel Montes, Future Leaders of the Philippines (FLP) Burias Chapter President said.

The Campus Budget Forum serves as a prelude to the Campus Budget Hearing scheduled on July 23, 2025, where all proposed plans will be reviewed and consolidated for university-level deliberation.

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 | 𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗗𝗜 𝗦𝗜𝗬𝗔 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗖? 𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗧 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗩𝗜𝗥𝗔𝗟 𝗝𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗬 𝗔𝗖𝗘 𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗠 

by Avigayil Alcasid 

“Plastic gid siya, guys! (It really is plastic, guys),” exclaimed a concerned mother in a viral Facebook video after discovering a plastic-like residue after squeezing a pack of Jelly Ace. The post sparked widespread concern among parents, many of whom feared that what was once seen as a harmless snack might actually be toxic. But are jelly snacks truly as harmful as some netizens question it to be? 

A closer look at the ingredients in jellies and other gelatin treats reveals a common additive: carrageenan. Carrageenan is a substance extracted from red seaweed (Rhodophyta) and is widely used to thicken, emulsify, and preserve food and beverage products. Its ability to form firm, rubbery, and slightly stretchy gels can be mistaken for plastic. The gel-like residue does not imply the presence of synthetic plastic. 

In fact, carrageenan is found in a wide range of food products consumed every day, including ice cream, chocolate milk, yogurt, deli meats, low-fat cheese, infant formula, and even pet food (Shaikh, 2024). If carrageenan were deemed unsafe, it would question the safety of an extensive array of commonly consumed products. Importantly, food-grade carrageenan has been evaluated and approved for use by the Philippine Food and Drug Administration (formerly BFAD). The Philippines Bureau Circular No. 2006-016 cites the standards set by the Joint FAO/WHO Expert Committee on Food Additives (JECFA), which recognizes carrageenan as safe for human consumption within regulated levels.

 

The controversy regarding carrageenan is due to its degraded form, known as poligeenan. While food-grade carrageenan is extracted through alkaline solutions, poligeenan is produced by treating carrageenan with strong acids at high temperatures, resulting in low molecular weight compounds that have been shown in lab and animal studies to induce inflammation, gastrointestinal lesions, and even tumors. Unlike carrageenan, the degraded form, poligeenan, is not a food additive (Han, 2020). Regulatory agencies strictly forbid its use in edible products (Shaikh, 2024).

 

Despite public fear driven by viral content, current scientific evidence does not support the claim that food-grade carrageenan is harmful. According to Dr. Jasmine Shaikh (2024), whose article was medically reviewed by Dr. John P. Cunha, a 2018 safety review found no significant adverse effects of food-grade carrageenan on human health, noting that the compound passes through the digestive system largely unchanged and is excreted without being absorbed. 

To conclude, the gel-like consistency of jelly residues that resembles plastic to the naked eye is a result of carrageenan’s natural gelling properties.

References:

Han, J. (2020, February 29). What is carrageenan (E407) in food? Types, uses, safety, side effects. Retrieved July 7, 2025 FoodAdditives.net. https://foodadditives.net/thickeners/carrageenan/

Shaikh, J. (2024). Carrageenan: Uses, benefits, side effects, and safety. MedicineNet. Retrieved July 7, 2025 https://www.medicinenet.com/script/main/art.asp...

 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘 | 𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗬 𝗞𝗢! 

by Marya 

It starts as a whisper, murmured into the pillow at 10 PM., not to relapse from an ex lover or a shadowed friend, but eyes red from readings you barely understand, heart heavy from responsibilities you bear.

It’s funny, isn’t it? How three syllables from 𝘔𝘢𝘭𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘰𝘯, a content creator, can capture a thousand silent cries. How it becomes our anthem—half a joke, half a lifeline, and entirely true.

You wake up already tired, not from sleep, but from everything else.

Monday pa lang, pero parang Friday na sa bigat ng bitbit.

You scroll through the group chat, hoping for peace, only to find deadlines, PowerPoint slides, ungraded submissions, and a group project where only you moved.

“Leader ka,” they said.

Pero bakit parang ikaw lang ang gumagawa?

“Research lang ‘yan.”

Pero walang signal, walang laptop, walang tulong.

“May quiz pala?”

Oo, at parang ikaw lang ang hindi handa—kahit sinubukan mo namang intindihin, pero pagod na pagod ka na.

So you type it again: “Aray ko.”

Not because you hit your toe, but because you’ve hit your limit. Not because something broke, but because something inside is slowly falling apart.

Still, you submit.

You attend.

You present your slides with a voice that hides the tears you held back all week.

Because that’s what students do, we endure.

With empty stomachs, full plates, and tired hearts.

We endure, even when it hurts.

We whisper “aray ko,” because it’s the only way to laugh without crying. It's the language left when we no longer know how to ask for help.

But in the cracks of this chaos, there is still light.

The classmate who says “same.”

The teacher who extends the deadline.

The message that says, “Kaya mo pa ba?”

The grade you didn’t expect, the message from a friend, the moment you realize: you’re still here.

And maybe that’s the point.

Not to always win, or finish strong,

But to survive this one more day—

With trembling hands and a quiet heart that still whispers,

“Pagod na ako... pero laban pa rin.”

Aray ko.

But still, I go.

𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 | 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗠𝗧𝗛 𝗢𝗙 𝗦𝗔𝗥𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗦 

Even if you're not Neneng B, you'd probably say, "Ma, anong ulam?"

Yesterday at exactly 7:50 PM, the country heard a piece of news that barely made a sound on TV. However, in many homes where silence is louder than triumph, the news landed with soothing relief.

“Presyo ng sardinas, bumaba.”

Just another headline. Most people scrolled past it. Just another price. However, for countless families, that headline was a pause, a win, and a breath.

For the child who always asks, “Ma, anong ulam?” sardinas is the usual answer; for the mother juggling a tight budget, it’s a lifesaver—masarap kahit hinaluan lang ng miswa, itlog, o bihon; and for students in cramped boarding houses, it’s the go-to meal, shared with roommates, eaten with bare hands, and sometimes straight from the can.

Sardinas has many faces — ulam, sawsawan, sahog, sandigan.

Now, with the price going down, perhaps it’s a strange kind of blessing. Not one we prayed for out loud, but one we needed nonetheless.

Maybe it means one more meal for the child still asking, “Ma, anong ulam?” Maybe it means an old man in the province can eat breakfast and still afford his medicine. Maybe it means someone out there, who’s been counting coins all week, can finally breathe.

We don’t talk about it enough. How food becomes memory. How sardines remind us of our lowest, but also our strongest. The nights we endured. The nights we survived.

When someone opens that tin can and hears the soft click of the lid, it will be proof that even when the world gets heavy, there are still small mercies left to hold onto.

𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐍 | 𝗚𝗢 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗟𝗢𝗪 𝗢𝗥 𝗚𝗢 𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗧 𝗜𝗧 

by Joshua Dela Torre 

“𝘖𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸,” they say. It is a bold, romantic statement, often used to inspire rebellion, individuality, and resistance to the norm. But in the real world, especially in a country where survival often outweighs dreams—can everyone truly afford to go against the flow?

In every enrollment post on facebook, and on  university promotional materials, students are told to “follow your passion,” “choose your own path,” or “ pursue your dreams.” These are words of empowerment. But behind them often lies a silent judgment: that going with the flow is weak, that comfort equals failure, and that those who follow the crowd lack ambition. However, the truth is not that simple.

Take the case of freshmen students choosing a course. Many are pushed into programs not because of passion, but because of limited slots, financial constraints, family expectations, or the simple reality that not all dreams are sustainable. Is it really fair to tell a student from a struggling household to take the road less traveled when the road they’re on now is the only one they can afford to walk?

A 2022 study titled "On the 'income advantage' in course choices and admissions" by International Journal of Educational Development found that students from higher-income backgrounds have an advantage not only in university admissions but also in being admitted to their first-choice course clusters, suggesting that lower-income students may be more constrained in their options .The message is clear: not everyone has the luxury to dream boldly.

Despite this, we continue to push the narrative that “going against the current” is the only noble path. This mindset ignores the complex, lived experiences of those whose decisions are shaped not by comfort, but by necessity. It romanticizes the struggle without recognizing the privilege that often underpins it.

This is not to say that we should abandon ambition or stop advocating for passion. But we must start redefining what courage and growth really mean. Sometimes, it takes more strength to stay in a situation, make the most of what’s given, and find meaning in what once seemed like a default path. Choosing comfort is not always cowardice. Often, it’s strategy and survival.

Instead of dismissing those who go with the flow, let us reconsider what strength can look like. The challenge is to bloom where you’re planted, yes, but also to remain open to new soil when the time comes. Maybe you chose your course out of necessity. Maybe you followed your friends. Maybe it was not your first pick. But that doesn’t mean you cannot grow to love it, or shape it to serve you in ways you never imagined.

To those who dare to swim upstream, we admire your courage. But to those who stay with the current because they have to, your resilience is just as valid.