I AM, in a sense, back to the old grind. I have exhausted my tolerance for coffee shops, my room, the kitchen, or my favorite Dunkin Donuts store that serves excellent coffee. I will probably miss the cold airconditioning or the funny waiters who already know my name or what I will order. But there is a comfort in being with like-minded friends opening similar books or discussing similar problems or sharing similar mnemonics (the weirder, the better). The Boards is just a few days away. I will find myself huddled in a quiet corner at the Med Library today, surrounded by journals and books written when I wasn't around yet—or better yet, by friends who, like me, have tons of materials waiting to be read and highlighted. The day is long. May God be our strength.
If, theoretically, you had a gifted child—someone who could solve problems mentally, without pen and paper; who already knew calculus before...
THE NIGHT before her flight, Nanay tells me she has low back pain. “Is it just my posture?” she asks at 11 PM. “It aches when I sleep wi...
To the present hour we hunger and thirst, we are poorly dressed and buffeted and homeless, and we labor, working with our own hands. When r...
Memory is a mutable element, fickle in its suggestibility. It can be tricked to expand far beyond its true bounds, and yet, if overburdened,...
I've been blogging since 2004, and Tim Challies' article, " Nobody Respects A Blogger ," is a beautiful reminder of why I...
MACARTHUR by Filipino writer Bob Ong is a short, powerful novel about four boys raised in Manila's slums. I read it early this morning...
TOUR guides always refer to Christianity as if it were something distant: something that needs mentioning, but not too much. Talk about anyt...
THE website was down for a few days. My domain host failed to receive any notices from me that my renewal fee had been paid a day before dea...
Nothing arouses playfulness like the first experience of snow. From Gare Paris Est, I took an 11-hour train journey to Vienna, crossing ...
“My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”—Psalm 22:1 Were here behold the Savior in the depth of his sorrows. No other place so well sh...
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