It has always been a personal opinion that some of the greatest stories ever told have been about that strangely intoxicating “feeling” we call love. From the gospels of the Scriptures to even Bram Stoker’s Dracula, from Francisco Balagtas’ Florante at Laura to Haruki Murakami’s Sputnik Sweetheart, believe it or not, the drama, theatrics and ritual that go with love have permeated much of human literature to the point that it has, by and large, been quite a thorny, if not demanding, topic to launch upon. 

The coldest day of the year, I believe, has never been Christmas. Yes, despite the fake snow and styrofoam snowmen scattered everywhere, Christmas in the Philippines has been relatively warm, especially in the past few years. For me, the coldest day is that which happens as the melting ice in Siberia sends the chilly winds blowing in the direction of our islands during the first quarter of the year, just weeks before summer brings its scorching heat upon us. Usually, for some of us, temperatures are at their most biting every February 14--Valentine's Day. 

A televised bout by living legend Manny Pacquiao is all it takes to hush the daily frenzy in Metro Manila. The recent battle with Puerto Rican pugilist Miguel Cotto stopped virtually everything: From the literally hole-in-the-wall barbershop to the magnificent halls of the powerful Congress. Daily household routines take a sidelight halt just so Filipinos—even busy mothers—could cheer their champion in the ring. And for what it’s worth, even criminality takes a step sideways just to give lane to Manny’s surefire victory. Thanks to Manny, there’s a day in the Filipino’s life were peace truly reigns supreme.