A medical student is hard-wired to imbibe information coming from lectures or their books. The feature section rewires this programming with topics ranging from popular science, political issues, and medical achievements to literary endeavors such as short stories, poetry and other forms of creative writing.
Vince Camangeg: What’s it like working in the college? Vice Dean Susan Nagtalon: I’ve been an active consultant since 1987 [in the SLCM OB […]
Denise Joaquin: How long have you been dean of the college? Dean Brigido Carandang: Too long. 2005. That’s 12 years. DJ: Parang na-enjoy niyo […]
Dear Freshmen, Congratulations: you made it this far. After enduring pre-med, the NMAT, and applications you have arrived here in St Luke’s College of Medicine. […]
Are you looking for somewhere to chill with your friends but you don’t know where to go? Do you want to have fun and forget […]
Let’s be honest – few really know about the Bangsamoro Basic Law. Kids are more aware about oxalic acid poisoning brought about by the milk […]
Two wide iron crescents Seven-hundred ton behemoth of cold steel Stretched out thin, as if tip-toeing Pale against the power of it’s captive The […]
I roam cities that speak like you. Their lips twist at the rain, and their eyes squint at the sun, and I watch closely, […]
There’s a real life Gepetto
Who sculpts laughter onto grumpy puppet faces
To compensate for all the joy
The world has lost.
It wasn’t really eventful; after years of lying and cheating and cursing and fucking, someone finally got fed up and decided I needed to go. After a few days of torture I was out.
That was 1 293 days ago.
Hat in mind, Desmond crouched to tie his shoelaces. The laces were too long. They got caught in one of the branches sticking out the soft, loamy earth. Desmond, focusing on his work, failed to notice and slacked the shoelaces off as he ploughed through. His bare foot touched the moist earth composed of rotting biomass and animal feces.
“Sa tingin mo kaya, balang araw magiging tayo?” Tinanong niya minsan sa akin.
Today was difficult, she never said. But I could see it in her eyes, in the awkward jerky movements of her hands as she tried to lock the door and in the cautious way she dumped her bag on the couch like she knew I was watching her.
The door opens. I enter.
I look at the mirror and try to judge myself as how others would.
I don’t like what I’m seeing.