Mahal Kita, Mahal Kita, Hindi 'to Bola

Jaeyoun Kim, with his open letter that spread long ago, stated that for the Philippines to improve and become well off, love for country not only has to be felt but also practiced. I agree with him, and indeed the improvement should start with our selves.

In my opinion, even if there are a lot of corrupt and vile acts like plunder, cheating especially in elections, terrorist attacks, murder and rape (at high rates), that pull our country down, they are little as compared to the great force that will pull our country up, if and only if each one of us starts loving our country. By doing so, all of us can take action to alleviate the situation.

Indeed it is hard to love a person with qualities that we hate. Even harder is to love a country with undesirable qualities. The Philippines is slowly becoming one of the worst countries in Asia economically and politically, while about half a decade ago, it was one of the best. Our neighboring countries are slowly overtaking us. Poverty, corruption, and immorality is also plaguing us, but since this is also affecting other countries, this is barely an excuse, and I believe that even though it is difficult to love our country for what it is, once we learn to do so as individuals, it will be much easier for others to love the country, which will lead to great change.

The choice to love our country is ultimately ours, but I believe that choosing this can only bring us good.

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference

...Robert Frost