I Didn’t Understand It Then. I Think I Do Now.

There are some things we only understand in hindsight. When we're in the middle of an ordinary moment, we don't always recognize how meaningful it might become. We don't know which conversations we'll remember years later, which songs will suddenly bring someone back to us, or which seemingly insignificant things will eventually become pieces of a much bigger story. For me, one of those things was my mom saying, “Panoorin mo ’to. Grabe kagaling nila."

She would say it whenever she wanted me to watch a BTS video with her. She genuinely enjoyed watching their performances, especially their dancing, and was always eager to show me something she found impressive. And I would watch, but that's really all it was to me then. I knew who BTS were, of course, but I wasn't a fan. I didn't know their songs, I couldn't tell you much about the members, and I certainly couldn't have imagined spending hours one day trying to learn everything about them. To me, it was simply something my mom liked.

I didn't understand it then. I think I do now.

After my mom passed away, I started looking at those little moments differently. Grief has a way of making you revisit memories you once thought were ordinary. You remember the smallest things, the way someone said something, the things they were excited about, the things they repeatedly recommended and suddenly, those things don't feel small anymore. So when the opportunity came to watch the Arirang Tour in Singapore, my husband and I decided to go on her behalf. It felt like a simple but meaningful way to carry a little piece of her with us.

We were incredibly lucky to secure tickets via Klook, and once we had them, I realized I had a problem: I couldn't possibly attend a concert without knowing the artists first. I'm not the type of person who can just show up and figure things out along the way. If I'm going to a concert, I want to know the songs, recognize the members, and understand what everyone is so excited about. So I started what I jokingly called my “BTS appreciation deep dive.”

I listened to their music and watched performances, dance practices, interviews, and eventually fell into the world of BTS. I wanted to understand their personalities, their story, and what made these seven men so beloved by millions of people around the world. At first, I was simply preparing for a concert. But then something unexpected happened: I started enjoying it. Really enjoying it. I found myself laughing at their antics, looking forward to the next episode, replaying songs I liked, and slowly learning who they were beyond the performances my mom and I had once watched together.

The more I discovered, the more I began to understand what she had seen. It wasn't just about dancing or music. There was something about their energy, their humor, their friendship, their determination, and the way they could make people feel connected to something bigger than themselves. Maybe that's what my mom had been seeing all along. And perhaps that's why this journey has meant more to me than I expected it to. I wasn't simply discovering something new; I was rediscovering something my mom had once tried to share with me.

Somewhere along the way, I found myself looking forward to these little moments of discovery. I found myself laughing more and having something to be excited about. I found joy. It's not the kind of joy that erases grief, because losing someone you love doesn't work that way, but a kind of joy that could sit beside it. A song could make me smile while I still missed my mom. A funny episode could make me laugh even on a difficult day. And somehow, that felt important. Grief had taught me that happiness doesn't have to mean you've moved on. Sometimes, happiness is simply proof that you are still capable of experiencing something beautiful even while carrying the weight of someone's absence.

And somewhere along the way, I became an ARMY.

It's funny to think about how unexpected this all was. I started this journey because I wanted to understand something my mom loved. I wanted to be prepared for a concert that we decided to attend in her memory. But somewhere between the songs, the performances, the dance practices, the interviews, and all the news about BTS, I found something that became my own. At the same time, it still feels connected to her.

That's probably why I want to document this journey, not simply as a story about discovering a new group, but as part of a much more personal story about grief, memory, and finding unexpected pockets of happiness. Over the next few days (or weeks), I'll be sharing some of the things I've discovered along the way: the songs I've come to love, the moments that made me laugh, the things I've learned about the members, and eventually, what it was like to experience the concert itself.

If you've been ARMY for years, I hope you'll enjoy seeing Bangtan through the eyes of someone who's only just beginning. And if you've ever been curious about BTS but didn't know where to start, maybe my journey will encourage you to press play on that first video.

Because now, when I think about my mom telling me, “Panoorin mo ’to,” I hear it differently. I used to think she was simply recommending a video. Now, I wonder if she was sharing a little piece of herself with me. Maybe she knew how much joy they would eventually bring me. Maybe she simply wanted me to see what she saw. Or maybe it was never meant to be anything more than a mother sharing something she loved with her daughter. I'll never really know.

But looking back now, I think I finally understand why those words stayed with me. I didn't understand it then. I think I do now. Maybe every “Panoorin mo ’to” was never just about the video. Maybe it was simply my mom's way of saying, “Look at this. I love this. I want to share it with you.” And somehow, years later, I finally did.

I pressed play.

And I think she would have been happy that I did. 

Before You Gossip About Someone, Read A Wrinkle in Time

We all know someone who loves a good piece of gossip. Sometimes it starts as harmless curiosity. Other times, it's a quick judgment about someone we barely know. We tell ourselves, "It's just conversation." But words have a way of traveling farther than we expect and they often leave wounds we never see.

That's one of the many reasons I think more people should read A Wrinkle in Time.

At first glance, Madeleine L'Engle's classic seems like a children's science fiction novel filled with mysterious planets, extraordinary beings, and adventures across space and time. But beneath the fantastical story lies a timeless lesson about kindness, acceptance, and the damage caused by fear and judgment.

One of the book's strongest messages is that being different is not something to be ashamed of. Meg Murry isn't the picture of the "perfect" child. She's awkward, insecure, struggles in school, and often feels like she doesn't belong. She's misunderstood by classmates and even by adults who are quick to judge her without taking the time to understand her.

How often do we do the same in real life?

It's surprisingly easy to form opinions based on rumors or first impressions. We hear one side of a story, repeat it, and suddenly someone else's reputation becomes entertainment. Gossip thrives because it's easier to talk about people than to talk to them.

But A Wrinkle in Time quietly reminds us that every person is fighting battles we cannot see.

The novel also explores the dangers of conformity and discrimination. In the story, there's an unsettling pressure for everyone to think alike, act alike, and fit neatly into society's expectations. Anyone who doesn't fit the mold is viewed with suspicion or treated as less worthy.

That idea feels remarkably relevant today.

Whether it's someone's appearance, personality, beliefs, background, or life choices, people are often judged simply for being different. Gossip becomes another tool that isolates rather than connects. It creates invisible walls between people instead of building understanding.

What makes the novel so enduring is that it offers a better alternative.

Again and again, the story shows that kindness is stronger than cruelty, love is stronger than fear, and understanding is stronger than judgment. The characters succeed not because they are perfect, but because they choose compassion over condemnation.

Imagine how different our communities, workplaces, schools, and even our families would be if we paused before repeating a rumor.

Imagine asking, "Is it true?"

"Is it necessary?"

"Is it kind?"

Those simple questions could stop countless hurtful conversations before they begin.

Perhaps that's why A Wrinkle in Time continues to resonate with readers decades after it was first published. It's not just a story about traveling across the universe. It's about becoming better human beings here on Earth.

So before passing along the latest gossip or making assumptions about someone you've never really taken the time to know, pick up A Wrinkle in Time instead.

You might discover that the greatest adventure isn't through space and time.

It's learning to choose empathy over judgment, kindness over gossip, and love over fear.

What to Look Forward to at the Philippine International Comics Festival 2026

I'll admit it - when I was, I thought comic books were just for superheroes.

But I was wrong - some of the best stories I've ever read came in the form of komiks and graphic novels. They made me laugh, linger on beautiful artwork, and sometimes sit quietly after turning the last page. That's the thing about comics: they're not just something you read. They're something you experience. 

By the way, I'm excited to share the Philippine International Comics Festival (PICOF) return this July 10–12, 2026 at Ayala Malls The 30th.

And this year, there's an even better reason to drop by: it's completely FREE. 

What I love most about PICOF isn't just the comics. It's the people behind them.

You'll find artists sketching at their tables, writers happily chatting with readers, independent creators proudly sharing books they've spent months (or years) creating, and fellow fans discovering titles they've never heard of before. It's one of those rare events where everyone seems genuinely excited to be there.

Walking around the comics market almost feels like treasure hunting. Every booth has something different to offer: beautifully illustrated graphic novels, art prints, original comics, and stories that you probably won't find in your usual bookstore.

This year's festival also brings together creators from the Philippines, Japan, Singapore, Indonesia, Vietnam, Thailand, and Australia, making it a wonderful opportunity to see how comics connect people across cultures.

If you're the kind of reader who loves discovering something before everyone else does, PICOF is also where many new releases make their debut. From fantasy and mythology to romance, memoirs, slice-of-life stories, and thought-provoking graphic novels, there's always something unexpected waiting to be picked up.

Beyond the books, you can also check out the exhibits. 

The tribute celebrating the 100th birth anniversary of National Artist for Comics Larry Alcala feels especially meaningful. His work has become such an important part of Filipino visual storytelling, and it's wonderful to see both his original pieces and modern interpretations by today's komiks creators in one space.

There's also Sinta: Queer Stories Across Asia, an exhibit featuring creators from Japan and Southeast Asia. I always enjoy seeing how artists from different countries tell stories about love, identity, and belonging through such a unique medium.

And if you've ever wanted to learn how comics are actually made, the festival offers masterclasses, artist talks, live drawing sessions, and creator discussions throughout the weekend. Even if you don't draw yourself, hearing artists talk about their process can be surprisingly inspiring.

What I appreciate most about PICOF is that it reminds us how rich Filipino komiks have always been.

For generations, local creators have been telling stories that are funny, heartfelt, imaginative, and deeply rooted in our culture. Festivals like this give those stories and the people who create them, the spotlight they deserve.

So whether you're a longtime comic collector, someone who enjoys graphic novels every now and then, or simply looking for something different to do this weekend, PICOF feels like a wonderful place to spend a few hours.

You might leave with a new favorite book.

Or a sketch from an artist you just met.

Or maybe just a renewed appreciation for how powerful stories can be when words and art come together.

Either way, I think that's time well spent.