Mari Felices

The Pillow Conspiracy: Why You Should Never Host Marites Hour Before a Morning Shift Let me paint you a picture. It’s 9:20 PM on a quiet evening. I’m curled up in my third-floor apartment, ready to wind down when suddenly—ringing doorbells, continuously and urgently… Yvette opened the door. It was Aimee, and just after she closed it, someone knocked again, impatiently. I opened the door. It was Rizel. My two friends and workmates from the first floor arrived like undercover agents and hungry dragons. They were on the evening shift. We weren’t just catching up; we were entering full-blown Marites Mode. By 9:25 PM, we were deep into a passionate discussion about corruption in the Philippines. From pork barrel scandals to ghost projects, we dissected every shady deal with the fervor of political analysts with zero credentials but maximum emotion. The rage was real. Then, like any good Filipino conversation, the topic naturally shifted to love life. The snacks inclu...

I wrote this poem 11 years ago, during a time when my heart was overflowing with longing. It recently popped up in my Facebook memories, and reading it again brought back a wave of emotion. Some nights feel colder than others not because of the weather, but because of the ache of missing someone. Loneliness creeps in, and memories become vivid dreams.  This poem was written in one of those moments, when longing becomes louder than silence and love feels both distant and eternal and the deep ache of love that refuses to fade.  If you've ever yearned for just one more night with someone you love, this is for you. The Poem Thinking of you in my sleepless, lonely, cold night,   That I'm looking into your eyes,   Kissing me and touching me tonight.   But your distance is like stars and moon at night.   If loving you is not right,   Then I don't care and I don't mind.   If loving you is a crime,   Then...

To be an OFW is to live a life of quiet courage. Far from the warmth of home and the embrace of family, they step into unfamiliar lands not just to earn, but to sacrifice. Their only weapon? Prayer—a lifeline to hope, a whisper to God when no one else is around to listen. In the silence of foreign rooms, when loneliness creeps in and tears fall freely, their best friends are often a simple notebook and pen. These are more than tools—they're confidants, witnesses to pain, and keepers of dreams. Every word written is a release, every page turned a step forward. Their journal becomes the shoulder they cry on, the space where they pour out longing, frustration, and love. A Prayer and a Pen Far from home, across the sea,   I work alone, but dream of thee.   No hugs at night, no warm embrace,   Just silent tears upon my face. My only shield is whispered prayer,   A quiet hope that floats in air.   I speak to God when days are long,...

Living and working abroad isn’t always the dream people imagine. For many of us, especially Filipinos in healthcare, it’s a journey of grit, growth, and grace. This poem—written in a blend of Tagalog, English, and Finnish—captures the everyday struggles and quiet triumphs of a caregiver navigating life in Finland. SANA ALL TALAGA ( Tulang TagFinglish ) Sana all, fluent sa suomen kieli, Ako? “Anteeksi, mitä?” pa rin ang daily. Nakakahiya naman kasing magsalita ng kanilang kieli, Baka mali ang pagbikas ko ng perhe, pieni, at veli. Sa työpaikka, tahimik ako na hoitaja, Nagbibigay ng lääkkeet, nagpapalit ng vaippa. Kahit minsan lang makarinig ng “Kiitos at anteeksi,” Pero sa mata nila, ramdam ko ang kiitollinen. Kahit simpleng bati o “Moi Mari” lang, Parang may kilig, parang may saysay ang araw. Kahit malayo sa pamilya’t mahal sa buhay, Dito sa Finland, may purpose pa rin ang bawat araw. En jaksa kaya ’di pwede sa yövuoro, Pero sa päivävuoro, ako bigay todo. Mula “Hyvää huoment...